You're Still The One I Want
by Maxie Kay
Summary: So what happened after Kensi and Deeks decided to move in together at the end of I'm Not In Love? What didn't happen is more like it... And is the world ready for Densi Deeks?
1. Chapter 1

**You're Still The One I Want**

An NCIS: Los Angeles Fanfiction

By

Maxie Kay

A sequel to _I'm Not In Love_

"I don't want to leave." Kensi looked round the apartment, which looked strangely empty and bare. The few remaining possessions were packed up in boxes and neatly labelled. The furniture was already gone and without the familiar accoutrements of daily like the place looked strangely unfamiliar. Still, she felt like she was giving up and abandoning the place that had meant so much.

"You've got to let go," Nell said soothingly. "It's only an apartment."

"It used to be home." She looked at the spaces on the walls where the pictures used to hang, large squares of darker paint that showed where the sunlight had faded the surrounding areas of paintwork. "It used to be _our_ home," she added for emphasis.

"I know. I remember the day you and Deeks moved in here."

"Me too." Despite herself, she smiled at the memory. "We were so happy. It was our first home together. Oh Nell, this is so hard." Kensi's voice broke slightly, despite her best efforts to keep her emotions under control. There were too many memories here, too many reminders of the life they'd shared together, the life she was now leaving behind. It was impossible not feel sad at leaving, even if it was time. She just wasn't sure it was the right time. Maybe she could have stayed here a bit longer? Maybe it wasn't too late?

"I know." Looping her arm through the older woman's, Nell led her gently out of the apartment and shut the door behind them. "It's time to go, Kensi, you know that. It's time to move on."

"I guess so." She knew there was no turning back, that this really was the final goodbye, but it was affecting Kensi more than she had thought possible. Who would have thought a few rooms could mean so much? They walked down the stairs in silence and when they exited the building, Kensi turned to look back at the roof terrace. "Do you remember that first night? You all came over and we ended up sitting up there on the terrace and drinking wine?"

"I remember. And Sam had brought one of those sky lanterns and we lit it and watched it sail across the sky until it was just a tiny bright dot in the darkness." It seemed like only yesterday, and yet three years had passed. Where had all the time gone? It didn't seem possible, until you thought of everything that had happened. "Don't be sad, Kensi," Nell pleaded. "Just think about all the good times you had here. And all the good times you're going to have."

"I don't want this to end," Kensi confessed, and Nell saw that her eyes were bright with unshod tears. "I wanted it to last forever. And I thought it would." She stood on the sidewalk and looked completely desolate.

Nell saw a familiar car coming down the street and waved frantically. "Come on. It's time," she said and gave Kensi's hand a little squeeze, noticing how cold it was and how strangely empty it felt without the familiar rings. When she looked down, she could see the bands of pale skin on Kensi's ring finger, standing out stark against her tanned skin. "The guys just have to get those last few boxes down and then we'll get going. Okay?" She shook her head slightly as Sam and Callen drew up beside them and silent tears began to trickle down Kensi's face.

"No going back." Sam leapt out of the car and took hold of her elbows. "You hear me, Kensi?" He bent down slightly and stared into her eyes. "It's time to go. You know that."

Kensi just nodded, being incapable of words and Sam rushed off inside, figuring that the kindest thing to do was to make this final parting as swift and painless as he could.

"It'll be okay," Callen added. "Everything will be just fine. You can do this, Kensi."

Kensi wished she could believe them. Numbly, she let Nell usher her into the back seat of the car, aware that she was being treated as delicately as if she was made out of porcelain and then sat there, gazing at the street that held so many memories. How many times had she and Marty walked along there, strolling hand in hand, sipping coffee, looking in shop windows, arguing about whose turn it was to drive, or to do the laundry? They argued a lot, but then they always had. He would tease and she would dig her heels in and refuse to be swayed until it was almost too late. That was how it had always been, right from the start: he would wheedle and charm and she would resist with all her might and main, until resistance suddenly melted away. Marty had always had that effect on her, no matter how Kensi might try to deny it. Just one smile from him and the dark clouds would dissipate.

"That night – that first night in the apartment? We made love just before you guys arrived. And I'd wanted everything to be perfect for the party, only we lost track of time and were scrambling into our clothes when the bell rang, and the place was still in a mess. Complete and utter chaos. Do you remember that?"

"I remember you had a whole wad of balled up packing tape stuck to the seat of your jeans," Nell said with a giggle. "And Deeks' fly was down. But apart from that, and the fact you both had stars in your eyes and that none of the boxes were unpacked, nobody would have guessed you'd been otherwise occupied. Not for a second."

"We were kind of obvious, weren't we?" Kensi found she was able to smile through the tears. "And it was a really good night, despite everything." They had sat out for hours, drinking too much and at one point Hetty had stood up and recited all the verses of _The Little Yellow God_ entirely from memory and complete with all the actions. And then Sam had started singing. Part of her had not wanted the evening to end, and the other part was desperate to see them leave so that she and Marty could make love all over again. When they were finally alone, they'd dragged quilts out onto the terrace and stayed out under the stars all evening and then watched the sun rise, burnishing their naked bodies with its early rays. Life had seemed so perfect then.

"It was a great night. One of the all-time all-timers. And we're going to have more great nights. Just you wait and see." Nell watched as Callen and Sam finally exited the building, laden down with the last remnants of the life Kensi and Marty had once spent together in the building and loaded them into the trunk of the car.

"Are you ready?" Callen looked keenly at her and Kensi managed to nod.

"I've said my goodbyes." Still, despite the brave words, she turned her head as the car moved off along the street and watched until the building had disappeared from sight. That part of her life was over and a new chapter was beginning. Kensi couldn't remember when she'd ever been so scared in her whole life.

"It'll be fine," Nell said again.

"Who are you kidding?" Sam turned around and grinned at them. "It's going to be amazing."

"That's easy for you to say. I'm scared. What if I can't do this?" Kensi rung her hands desperately.

"Of course you can. You're Kensi – you can do anything."

"Maybe the old Kensi could. I can't." She stared out of the window, watching as the streets rolled past.

"Sure you can. And you know we'll all help out." Callen saw the street sign ahead. "Okay, we're nearly here now. Third house on the left?"

"Fourth," Kensi said automatically. She could see the moving van was already there, parked in the street and the men were standing idly by, just waiting to be let in. "Can you manage to get into the driveway, Callen? They've not left you much room."

"How about you leave the driving up to me?" he suggested kindly.

"So I'm a worrier. I'm entitled to be worried." Despite herself, Kensi could feel a bubble of excitement starting to form in her stomach as the car made it around the van with barely an inch to spare and drew to a halt."

"At last! I thought you'd never get here!" A set of keys was dangled triumphantly beside her window and Kensi reached down to open the door, but she was beaten to it. "How about you let me take care of that?" Marty opened the door with a flourish and then held out his hand invitingly. "Welcome to our new home."

Laughing, Kensi let him help her out of the car and then stood admiring the house. "I can't believe it's really ours."

"It's really ours and we've got the mortgage to prove it. Here, you hold onto these for me." He thrust the keyring into her hand and then swung her up into his arms.

"Marty! Put me down. I'm far too heavy."

"You've never been more beautiful, Kensi." He bent down so that she could open the door and then strode into the hall. "Welcome home, Mrs Deeks - mother of my unborn child and the most beautiful woman I know."

"Will you ever stop talking nonsense?" Kensi turned her face up and kissed him.

"Probably not. He eased her down onto the ground as gracefully as possible, given that his back was killing him. Kensi at eight months pregnant was significantly heavier that the Kensi who used to trot around in size two jeans. Not that he would ever tell her that, of course. Not if he wanted to stay married, that was.

"Good. Because pregnant ladies need to be told they are gorgeous, at least ten times a day. Especially when they feel the same size as a refrigerator."

"You really are gorgeous," Marty said, with total sincerity. "You get more gorgeous every day." His hand caressed her belly lovingly and with that sense of wonder that made her feel like she had all the secrets of the world contained within her.

Kensi kissed him again. When he said things like that, and looked at her like that, she could almost believe him. If it wasn't for the fact that her hands were so swollen she'd had to take of her wedding and engagement rings. "Welcome home, Mr Deeks. From me and our unborn child."

"Densi," Marty said hopefully.

"What if we have a girl?"

"Densi works just as well for a girl as well as a boy. It's a great name for a surfer of either sex." It was a familiar refrain and one they'd been having for more than six months without resolution. Marty kissed her again, just because she looked so beautiful and because he loved her so much, even if she had lousy taste when it came to names. "You weren't too upset at leaving the old apartment?"

"Not really. It was just that there were a whole lot of memories, you know?"

"I know." It was the place they returned to from Prague as newlyweds, the place where the baby had been conceived. So much of their history was tied up in the apartment and it would always be special. Only now it was time to move on and embrace the future. "But we're going to make a whole lot more memories now, okay?"

"Okay." Kensi walked into the living room – their living room - looked around and smiled. "So how about you go get the men started unloading the van, and I'll sit on the window seat and look attractive?"

"That sounds like a deal." Marty walked down the path to where the others were standing beside the car. "She cried, didn't she?" he asked with an air of resignation.

"Oh yes."

"She cries a lot. Either because she's happy or because she's sad. Or just because."

"Is she crying now?" Callen looked nervously at the house and waved tentatively at Kensi, who was looking a bit anxious as the men started to unload the furniture. He didn't do tears. He especially didn't do Kensi in tears. It was like a contradiction in terms.

"Not yet." Marty gave a strangled yelp as Nell poked him in the ribs.

"You should have been there when she said goodbye to the apartment. She was really upset." Nell glared at him and, not for the first time, Marty thought she was getting incredibly like Hetty. It was a truly terrifying thought that there might be two of them. One was bad enough. Tow was positively untenable.

"Said goodbye for the umpteenth time, you mean? Kensi's been saying goodbye every day for the last month. She even said good bye to the recycling bins when I put them out for the last time. Anyway, I had to go collect the keys." _God, that was convenient. I'm all cried out. And if she cries much more she'll get dehydrated and have to go into hospital and be put on a drip._

"Excuses, excuses." Nell stalked off into the house.

"Don't even bother going there," Callen said kindly. "Because you're never going to win. Not with women."

They looked at him in astonishment. "Exactly when did you become such an expert, Mr "Six Week Maximum Relationship"?" Sam asked, when he finally recovered his breath.

"Through bitter experience. Lots of experience. You want to tell me I'm wrong?"

"The tragic thing is that he's right, Sam. Even if he doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Just you wait, G. Because I really pity the woman who gets landed with you."

He and Marty went over to the van and thus completely missed the look that came over Callen's face: part wistfulness and part hope, but mixed with a whole heap of expectation and excitement. _What they don't know won't hurt them. And I don't want them to know. Not yet. Not until I'm certain._

* * *

><p><strong>Three Years Earlier.<strong>

"You're not taking that chair. No way. Not to our new apartment."

"Why not? It's almost brand new – I've only had it a few months." Marty looked at the leather recliner and wondered why Kensi hated it so much.

"Because it's black leather, it's got a built-in beer cooler and it vibrates – that's why. What other reasons do I need?"

"I've told you – it's a massage option."

"It's a vibrating porn chair, that's what it is. It's the sort of chair that men who watch porn sit in. And I'm not having it in my home.

"It's my home too and I like it. And it's coming."

"So you can sit in it and watch porn?" Kensi looked at him. "Marty – please tell me you don't like porn?"

"I'm a man – of course I like porn. It's part of the job description." He watched as Kensi's face fell and her hand started to rise up menacingly. "Joking. I was joking – okay?" With any luck she wouldn't see that he had his fingers crossed behind his back.

"You better have been," she said darkly. "It's still not coming though."

"How about if I wipe it down with disinfectant?" Marty asked hopefully.

* * *

><p><em>Back by popular demand - and a nice long installment to get started with.<em>

_ I hope this lives up to expectations..._

_As always - I'd love to hear your reactions to this story._


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm overwhelmed by all the amazing reviews and alerts - thank you so much._

_To answer a few questions:_

_Would I really kill Marty off at the very begining? Maim him slightly, perhaps - but not kill him. Even I'm not that bad (and evil plot bunny is currently bound and gagged)_

_Why wasn't Kensi wasn't wearing her rings? that's because her fingers were swollen due to her pregnancy._

_Will be a long story? Oh yes - we've got three years before the birth of baby Deeks, after all. _

_Will they really call a baby Densi? I'm not going to answer that one - you'll just have to wait and see!_

_So - here is today's installment._

* * *

><p>"How about you just admit defeat and stop digging that hole? Give the stupid chair to Callen, why don't you? He seems to like it well enough." Kensi had noticed how Callen always made a beeline for the recliner whenever he came over.<em> I bet that after they had their buddy games of poker, they used to watch porn after Hetty left. I can just see Callen sitting there in that chair and leering. I just hope Hetty left. I don't think I could cope with it if she'd been there too.<em>

"Why wouldn't Callen like it? It's a great chair_." It's even got a pocket in the side for magazines. I just hope Kensi hasn't discovered that._

"Well, there you go. Problem sorted. He can sit in it and watch adult movies. Callen's happy, I'm happy – everyone's a winner."

"Except me." Marty was beginning to realised that moving in with your girlfriend was to quite as simple as it had seemed at first. "Any other pieces of my furniture you want to consign to the trash heap?"

"Don't be mad at me. Anyway, it wouldn't go with my sofa."

"You're not taking your sofa? We're not having that in our new apartment."

"Why not?" Kensi glared at him. "I love that sofa."

"Kensi, it has to be about twenty years old and all there's no padding left in the cushions. Everytime I sit down, I have this feeling I'm going to keep on sinking. It's like the things going to eat me up. Plus, there's holes in it." Marty hated that sofa. Really hated it.

"You put a throw over it and nobody will see." _It's nearer thirty, actually. But it's like an old friend. So what if it's old? You don't dump your friends because they're getting on a bit._ That sofa had seen her through a lot of rough times. So what if it had a few holes in the upholstery. And one or two stains. They were like badges of honour.

"People see a throw on a sofa and they think 'that's a really old, really grotty piece of furniture under there'. We're not having that sofa and we're definitely not having throws. Period."

"I'm beginning to think I've walked into an episode of _Queer Eye_, or something. Who died and made you the god of interior design?"

"My sofa's newer. And it's bigger. And it actually looks good too. Oh – and here's the clincher, it's comfortable. I don't actually like having springs sticking into my butt. It's only just started to heal properly. Plus, my sofa's leather, so it's easy to keep clean. "

"You really do have a thing for cleaning, don't you?" Kensi asked curiously.

"And you say that like it's a bad thing – why? I don't remember you complaining when we've been in the shower together. Or the bath."

"That's completely different."

"Of course it is. You just keep telling yourself that, Kensi." Marty sighed. "Okay, are we agreed – we're taking my sofa, giving the chair to Callen and putting your sofa on the trash heap."

She had to give it one last shot. "Maybe Goodwill would like my sofa?" It deserved an honourable end after all those years of faithful service.

"Kensi – nobody would like your sofa. If we put it out on the street, not even the homeless guys are going to want to sit on it."

Wisely, she decided to ignore this. "You've packed your books already." Going over to take a closer look, Kensi wondered if she was imagining things. "And you've packed them all alphabetically?"

"Alphabetically by author, and then alphabetically for each author," he corrected and caught the look on her face. "What? You've got a problem with that?" _Doesn't everybody do that?_

"No, I've not got a problem. But you might. That's anal, Marty. That's really anal."

"No, it's not – it's just being organised. Anyway, you don't actually have any books, so how would you know?" Marty was determined to take his bookshelves with him – that was non-negotiable.

"I read magazines instead. You can learn a lot from magazines," Kensi protested.

He grinned salaciously. "Tell me about it. Especially the ones with pictures in them."

"Get your mind out of the gutter. I didn't mean that sort of magazine, and you know it."

"I was actually talking about _National Geographic_, if you must know. Whose mind's in the gutter now?"

"Yeah, I can just picture you sitting in the vibrating porn chair reading that."

Marty decided it was time to change the subject away from his beloved recliner. "You do want to take my bed, right? Seeing as how it's much bigger than yours." _That sounds like boasting, doesn't it? But it's true._

"My mattress is softer though." _This is getting like Goldilocks and the Three Bears._

"It's not soft, Kensi – it's old. There's this hollow in the middle and when I turn over, I roll straight into it_." I also roll into you, which is kind of brilliant._

"That's because it's my old bed from home," she confessed. _I really like it when we end up in the middle of the bed together._

"How about we put it in the spare room and keep it for guests?" _Sometimes you have to be willing to compromise. Although quite why she gets to keep that bed and I have to lose my chair I don't know._

Kensi frowned. "There won't be much room for anything else in there." The spare room was rather on the small side, it had to be said_. It's almost the perfect size for a walk-in wardrobe. I'll leave that idea for a while thought and then introduce it so Marty thinks it was his idea._

"Small is good. That way, they won't be tempted to stay for too long."

They were getting there. Slowly but surely the different parts of two separate lives were starting to fit together, albeit not into an entirely seamless entity.

* * *

><p>"We need a table," Kensi announced, sitting bolt upright in bed.<p>

"It's three o'clock in the morning," a sleepy voice protested. "Can't we discuss this at a normal hour? Preferrably during the day?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you But I just realised we need a table."

"And we have to discuss this right now? Anyway, we already ordered a table – remember? Solid wood, kind of chunky and with six chairs?" As far as Marty could remember they'd debated for at least two hours as to the optimum number of chairs required. Or at least Kensi had. He'd kind of lost interest after ten minutes and after an hour he would cheerfully have agreed to anything.

"Not that sort of table."

Silence reigned for a moment. "Okay – I'll bite. Seeing I'm wide awake and I've got nothing better to do." Marty propped himself against the pillows and regarded her gravely. "So what sort of table do we need and why? And where are we getting the money from?"

"We need a table for the terrace, of course," Kensi said in a matter-of-fact voice, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "And then we need chairs to go with it."

"Maybe we could work up to those? Like, oh I don't know – next year maybe? When we've actually got some money?"

"We need them now, Marty. You must see that."

"I can see it would be nice," he allowed. "But we could manage with some cushions, maybe a lounger or a couple of beach chairs?"

"We need a table, Marty. And a table would look stupid without chairs. You can see that, can't you?"

"I can see I'm going to have to go out and sell a kidney. Which one do you think - left or right?"

"Or how about we prop one of your surf boards up on some bricks and serve the drinks off that?" Kensi had learned to ignore his more outrageous flights of fancy.

"Over my dead body. Hey - if I sell both my kidneys, you can do just that. And have money to buy that table and chairs you think we need. And exactly why are we serving drinks? And to who?"

"It's 'to whom' are we serving drinks," Kensi said automatically, if somewhat primly.

"To whom are we serving drinks? And why?" _And why are you acting like the grammar police at three o'clock in the morning?_

"To our friends, of course. At our house-warming party."

Marty flopped back down onto the bed in an attitude highly suggestive of defeat. "I give up."

"I knew you'd see sense!" Kensi bent over so that the ends of her hair tickled his chest. "Thank you, darling, sweet, generous Marty." She kissed him exuberantly.

"Darling sweet _broke_ Marty is more like it."

"How can I make it up to you?"

"You could start by taking that shirt off." Marty sat up and helped her remove it. "And why are you wearing it anyway?"

"Because this bed's too big and there's no comfortable hollow for us to roll into together," Kensi said sweetly. "I need more than love to keep me warm."

"So I'll just have to make it up to you in some other way- because _this_ is our bed. There's more room for action."

"You want to show me some action?"

"How about naked wrestling?"

"Is that the best you can do?" Kensi grabbed a pillow and flung it at him.

"Very erotic. That works for me, but then I've always had a thing for bedding." He suddenly realised what she was almost wearing and did a double take. "Hey - those are new, aren't they?" He hooked an admiring finger in the waistband of her panties. "Red satin is such a good look for you."

"I thought you'd like them." Kensi smiled conspiratorially. "And there's more, you know. I bought the whole set."

"That's the kind of purchase I can approve of. I'm listening. And looking." Marty watched with considerable interest as she bounded out of bed and started delving in a carrier bag. With any luck, she'd have forgotten about buying that totally unnecessary furniture by the time they got up. But right now, there were other things on his mind. Namely Kensi, who now looked too amazing for words in a black corset with red ribbons. "Can I undo these with my teeth?" he asked hopefully.

"Why don't you give it a shot?" Kensi walked slowly over to the bed. "How about you start with the garter?" She extended one long leg tantalisingly towards him and Marty didn't need to be told twice. So he wouldn't get a lot of sleep tonight? So what? This was definitely worth it.

* * *

><p>"Put an extra shot in that, will you?" Marty smiled wearily at the barrista. "And give me an espresso on the side."<p>

"Rough night?" she said sympathetically.

"Kind of. I didn't get much sleep." What with one thing and another. Mainly the other.

The scent of the coffee was starting to make him feel like one of Pavlov's dogs and he watched intently as she started to prepare the espresso. "I have insomnia too," she confided. "It's just terrible when you can't sleep, isn't it?"

"I don't know if I can cope with another night like that," Marty agreed solemnly, only too aware that Kensi was right behind him. But her mind was on other things.

"Excuse me – but do you mind me asking where you got that table and chairs from? The ones outside the shop? Because they're exactly what we're looking for. Won't they be perfect on the roof terrace, Marty?"

"Just dandy. I'll go make that appointment for the kidney donation, shall I?" Thankfully, the espresso was ready and he sipped it gratefully.

The barrista leaned forward confidentially. "If you're needing money in a hurry and you're serious about donation, I hear they give good rates at the sperm bank . The Medical Centre's right across the street."

"How sweet of you to think of us." Kensi gave her a sympathetic smile. "But right now he's overdrawn in that department."

Marty made choking noises as the espresso went down the wrong way.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading - now make me happy and review, please!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

By the time he'd recovered his breath they were already out of the shop, standing looking at that table.

"It's nice isn't it?" Kensi said, running her hand over it lovingly.

"It's a table," Marty replied dismissively. Or as dismissively as he could, given that his throat felt as it was on fire. Still, the caffeine was percolating nicely around his system now.

"It's exactly what we want." Her tone brooked no dissent.

"I'm kind of fond of my kidneys. Both of them. God gave us two of them for a reason." Heck, it was worth one last shot. Then again, they probably had really good magazines in the Medical Centre and there were worse way of spending half an hour_. I wonder if you can make repeat donations? It might be worth looking into. Purely theoretically, of course. Just in case Kensi has any more ideas about things she thinks we need._

"Enough with the kidneys. Anyway, I might have a bit of money in a savings account," Kensi said absently.

"Might you? And how long might you have had this money?" _And why are you only mentioning it now?_

"A while." _Damn. I should have kept my big mouth shut._

"Might it have earned any interest?"

Kensi shrugged nonchalantly. "It might."

"How much are we talking about here?" Marty's voice took on a wheedling tone.

"I guess around ten grand. Give or take."

"I'll take, thank you very much. And I'll keep my kidneys." Marty's mind was working overtime. "We could get one of those outdoor sound systems to go with the furniture? Or a really big TV?"

"We've already got two TVs. Two big TVs."

"We've not got really _REALLY_ big TVs. Ours are just sort of normal sized."

"So's the apartment, in case you haven't noticed."

"You can't go too big where TVs are concerned. The bigger the better."

"So why do you always keep telling me size doesn't matter?" Kensi asked curiously, just as the barrista came outside. She'd clearly heard this, as she gave Marty a quick look up and down and then disappeared back inside the shop with a disappointed look on her face. You could practically hear the sound of illusions shattering.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot." He tried to look upset, but discovered that it was difficult to pout and drink out of a travel cup at the same time.

"You're off the market, remember? You're not supposed to ogle the merchandise anymore."

"Maybe I'm looking for someone who'll be nice to me? And I wasn't ogling. I was looking."

"Your eyes practically crossed over when you saw she was wearing short shorts. Admit it – what you're looking for is some hot girl-on-girl action. Anyway, I'm nice.I'm very nice. I buy sexy underwear for you."

"That makes it sound like I'm wearing your lingerie," Marty protested. Wisely, he decided to ignore the crack about hot action, mainly because he wanted to keep breathing.

"Don't give me ideas." Kensi tilted her head to one side and considered him. "Actually, on second thoughts, do. That might actually work for me. Only I don't think black's really your best colour. And you're definitely not my size."

"You've never complained before."

Kensi linked her arm through his and started to walk back to the car. "How about we talk about it on the drive? I can see you in a chemise and French knickers." _And you look strangely wonderful. This is so not normal. I never had fantasies like this before I met you, Marty Deeks. You're corrupting me, that's what you're doing. And it's wonderful._

"I can see you completely naked, any time I want."

"Not any time. I'm not that easy." _I mean, it's not like you only have to look at me and I can feel my thighs start to quiver like jello._

"It's easy for me." Marty tapped the side of his head. "All I have to do is close my eyes and PING! There you are. Only you're not naked. Not quite. Nope, you're wearing a pair of leather boots that come up to your thighs and a gunbelt."

Despite herself, Kensi had to ask. "Why am I wearing a gunbelt?"

"Don't ask me. You just are. Sometimes the fantasy takes on a life of its own. But don't worry, because it's a good look. In fact, it's a really good look. Too good just to be an imaginary good look."

Kensi knew exactly what was going on in his mind. "Don't even think of breaking into the armoury," she warned. "Hetty would kill you." _We couldn't make love in the Mission – could we?_

"But at least I'd die with a smile on my face."

* * *

><p>"What are you guys doing next Friday?" Kensi asked.<p>

Callen shrugged. "Nothing in particular. Why?"

Sitting directly across from her, Sam groaned theatrically and buried his head in his hands. He had a nasty feeling about this.

"There's no need to be like that. I was only making sure you could both come to our party, that's all."

She looked hurt, Callen thought, and no wonder. "We'd love to come. Wouldn't we, Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam was still sure there was a catch to this.

Beside him Marty grinned happily. "Good. It's the least we could do, to thank you for helping us move in."

"I never said anything about helping you move." Too late Callen remembered they were moving into a third floor apartment in a building that had no lifts.

"But you did say you had nothing else on," Kensi reminded him sweetly. "So we know you're free."

By some miracle, Sam managed to refrain from saying 'I told you so' to his partner, even if he had walked both of them right into it. "I told Hetty she should never have put them together. She's created a monster. The tag-team from hell."

"Look at it this way, if she hadn't paired me with Kensi, I might have been with you, Sam," Marty reminded him. "And not only would it have blown your little bromance with Callen wide open, it also means it would have been you and me moving into that apartment together."

"In your dreams." Sam would rather go to live in Callen's empty house. The one that looked as if it had just been raided by the debt collectors.

"No thanks. Kensi's much hotter than you. And she doesn't snore. Well, not much."

"I don't snore!" It was neck and neck as to who sounded more offended, Sam or Kensi.

Callen shrugged. "I couldn't possibly comment." He wasn't particularly worried, because all it would take was a quick word with Hetty and one piece of nifty rota swapping would mean he and Sam would be unavoidably detained at the Mission until well after six p.m., by which time it would be far too late to be able to offer any practical assistance with heavy lifting. Kensi and Deeks weren't the only who ones who could be sneaky – he'd learned from the all-time mistress of the art, Hetty Lang herself. Besides which, Kensi was always making a point of how she was as good as any man. It would be interesting to see how she felt about that after wrestling a king sized bed up three flights of stairs. Although maybe she'd wear a weight-lifting belt? That could be a really good look for Kensi.

A discordant screech interrupted his musings: Eric was standing at the top of the stairs, blowing into a bugle for all he was worth.

"Do _not_ ask where he got that from," Callen hissed. "Don't give him the satisfaction." He led the way into Ops, where Hetty stood, tapping her fingers impatiently against her thigh.

"Gentlemen. And Ms Blye. We have a situation."

That was never good, Callen thought. The only thing worse than a situation in Hetty-speak was a problem. And there was no telling when a situation could escalate into a problem. Maybe he wouldn't have to engineer that rota-swap after all?

"We've got three Marines dead in Cuidad Juarez, shot after what appears to be dispute with a local drug cartel."

"Great. That was just asking for trouble. What were they trying to do down there – muscle in on the operation? Offer some sort of protection for the cross-border smuggling?" Of all the places to go in Mexico, they had to choose Cuidad Juarez, Sam thought. The town was developing a reputation for violent drug-related battles. You had to be particularly stupid to even think about trying to do business there.

"That's what I'd like you and Mr Callen to find out. While Ms Blye and Detective Deeks pursue enquiries here."

"It would make more sense for me to go to Mexico," Kensi said. "Given that I'm fluent in Spanish. I know you guys can get by," she added hastily, "No offense. It's just that I'm better."

"None taken." Truth be told, Callen wasn't too keen to go there. The place held too many memories, and not necessarily ones he wished to rekindle.

"But you don't have an established cover, or an existing relationship with one Pedro Cardona, do you, Ms Blye? And Mr Callen does. Besides which, I will need your skills here. It appears that the killers were American citizens – and teenagers at that. Recruited here in Los Angeles, trained in Mexico and then let loose to act as paid assassins." Hetty sounded sad and resigned at the same time.

"Great. Kids working as guns for hire for the drug cartels. They were so much dead meat the moment they opened their sweet little mouths and gaped at all that was being offered." He'd seen to many dead kids during his time with LAPD and knew just how little a life could be worth. It was a one-way ticket to oblivion. "Let me guess – they got a monthly retainer, a paid apartment, money for each kill and some blow on the side?" It was becoming a sadly familiar refrain.

"Two kilos for each confirmed kill," Hetty said sadly.

"They probably earn more than we do. And I bet they've got great garden furniture, Kensi. Maybe if it gets confiscated we could put in an offer?"

"You don't have a garden," Sam said mildly.

"But we do have a terrace." Kensi smiled at the thought of it. "Where we're going to sit out in the evenings."

It didn't take much imagination to think what else that pair might get up to, he thought. "We really should warn the neighbours about these two. Let them have plenty of time to buy those high powered binoculars."

"Yeah – it'll be like a live show, won't it?" Callen had seen a few of those in his time, most notably in Amsterdam. "Only free."

"We'll put up trellising," Kensi said quickly. "Grow some creepers against it. Maybe wisteria and clematis and honeysuckle." She could see it all so clearly in her mind – a little retreat. Her sanctuary. And maybe even her love nest.

"So you can make love to Deeks in a scented bower?" Despite himself, Sam couldn't help thinking that Kensi had some really great ideas.

"Do you have to reduce everything down to sex?"

Callen grinned at her. "Do you have to ask?" He hadn't been able to believe his luck when Deeks had offered him that chair. It had to be the best chair ever and was just perfect for relaxing in after a hard day at work. Whatever relaxing entailed. It had been a long time since Callen had truly switched off from work, but maybe it was time he started. Just as soon as he got back from Mexico.

"Can we please get back to the subject in hand?" Hetty said sharply and looked over to Eric and Nell, who started bringing up photographs of the victims and the suspects and providing their normal, detailed briefing. It looked as if this one was going to be decidedly messy, if the scene of crime evidence to go by.

* * *

><p>"Nice address." Marty looked at the house, set in a pleasant suburb. It looked like the sort of place that would be lived in by a young family, rather than a gang of teenagers who were effectively mercenaries in a drug war.<p>

"We're in position, Eric. There's no sign of an activity around here."

Eric's voice came through her earpiece. "Callen's confirmed the Mexican authorities say there were two gunmen. That fits in with our intell about the house."

"Were you able to pick up anything useful from the traffic cameras?" Marty looked at the house and wondered why he had such a bad feeling about this.

"Nothing. Sorry about that. But there's been no reported activity."

"You want to take a chance?" Kensi asked. It was always the waiting that she hated. The waiting and the watching and the wondering if this time was going to be the time when it all went wrong. It was much easier just to have to do something, do it almost without thinking by moving into a well-rehearsed routine that had become as natural as breathing.

"Why not?" It was a calculated risk that the house would be empty, but one they had to take. However, there was always that chance that they were about to walk into the LA equivalent of the gunfight at the OK Corral. These kids had already shown their callous disregard of human life. For them, killing was merely a means to end. For himself and Kensi, it was something they did because they had to. Marty could remember every single person he had ever shot; he could recite their names and the exact dates. And while he'd only ever fired his gun at a person in the course of duty (with the exception of that time when he was a kid), it didn't actually make it any easier. "Maybe if we're really lucky we can pick them up and then go furniture shopping this afternoon?" Actually, furniture shopping sounded really good around now.

"And how about we tell Sam that he can only come home if he brings us a piñata and a bottle of tequila?" Kensi drew her gun and then lent across and kissed him on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"No reason. Just because."

"Because what? You're starting to make me worry. Should I be worried?" Marty got out of the car and looked at her.

"Naw. Why worry? We're only going into a house lived in by two teenage killers who're probably coked up to the max. Same old same old. Why worry now? What could possibly go wrong?" Kensi flashed a quick smile and then eased her way around the side of the house to position herself at the back door.

"You're not doing a very good job of convincing me." Pulling out the warrant, Marty knocked on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Present Day**

"Okay, you can come in now. But keep your eyes shut." Marty opened the door and took hold of Kensi's hand and led her forwards, so that she was standing in the middle of the room. "You've not been peeking, have you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Give me a break. I've been carrying this baby for nearly nine months without giving into the temptation of asking what sex it is. So why would I sneak a look at the nursery?"

"Because you've been dying to know what the décor is like? Because you don't trust me?" _Because I know exactly what you're like? If it wasn't for the fact you couldn't possibly climb a ladder right now, you'd have been staring through the windows. Good thing we ought a two storey house._

"I trust you. Most of the time." The suspense was killing her. "Please can I open my eyes now?" _And talking about trust, did you really have to lock the door and stuff the keyhole so there was no chance I could see anything?_

"Go right ahead." He found he was literally holding his breath as Kensi looked around the room. It was small, but with windows on two sides that let the sun flood in. The walls were papered in a pale yellow and white stripe, with matching curtains and the floorboards had been stained a dark oak. The crib stood against one wall, a changing table/dresser against another and a glider, upholstered in duck-egg blue filled a corner, angled so that it looked towards the windows. "Well?" he asked expectantly. _Oh God, she hates it._

Kensi turned around to look at him, her eyes full of tears. "It's perfect. Just completely perfect." She started to wander around the room, looking at each detail, stroking the curtains and marvelling at the tiny outifts hung up inside the closet.

"Nell helped me choose the wallpaper," he confessed. "And the glider's a present from Callen and Sam. You really do like it? You're not just saying so?"

"I love it. I absolutely love it." Kensi walked over to the crib and stared in disbelief. "Can you believe that our baby's going to be sleeping in there in a few weeks?"

"Not really. I still can't actually believe we're going to have a baby."

"You'd better believe it. Because I don't plan on staying like this for too much longer." Pregnancy was taking its toll on her body, Kensi had discovered. She seemed to need to pee all the time, and now her ankles were swelling as badly as her fingers. It was getting increasingly hard to remember what she used to look like and only this morning Kensi had stared at her underwear drawer in disbelief – had she ever worn panties as small as that? And would she ever wear them again? Big panties might not be glamorous, but boy, they were comfortable.

"Your breasts are great."

"My breasts are going to be nurturing our child, remember? Fulfilling the purpose God made them for in the first place." And currently they were encased in what could only be described as a heavy-duty bra that even Marty would find a passion-killer.

"He's not going to be feeding all the time."

"You want a bet?" she asked wryly, having heard some real horror stories. It appeared that everyone who had ever had a baby was just desperate to regale pregnant ladies with the trials and tribulations that lay ahead. If only they spoken to her nine months ago, Kensi thought. Only it was too late now. "And have you ever stopped to think that I might not exactly be dying to jump back into bed with you the minute the baby's born?"

"No – because I know you. And I know how much you like sex. Anyway, I thought we'd give it a couple of weeks and then see how you feel." He tilted his head to one side and gave a singularly pleading look.

Kensi shook her head and sat down in the chair and began to rock. "Six weeks minimum. And only then if I give you permission."

"Can I have that in writing? IOU hot sex, signed Kensi. Kiss, kiss, kiss?"

"It was kissing got me here in the first place, remember?" Right now, Kensi couldn't imagine ever actually wanting sex again.

"I remember. I remember very well. Mainly because it's been a while." Marty looked particularly soulful.

"And it's going to be a while longer. So get used to it."

"Spoilsport." He knelt down beside the chair and eased Kensi's feet into his lap. "How about if I give you a foot-rub? And then you go and have a nap?"

"That sounds like heaven," Kensi admitted, closing her eyes as his fingers gently soothed her aching muscles.

"And let me look after you – please? Just for once. You don't have to be Wonder Woman all the time. Even if you are the most wonderful woman in the world." He bent over her belly and kissed it tenderly. "I can't wait to meet junior, can you?"

"Believe me, if I could arrange things so that you could meet him or her tomorrow, I would. I'm fed up with being pregnant."

"How about I have the next one?"

"Be my guest." It was only with help that Kensi managed to get of the chair at all. And she was aware that she could no longer walk any more, only waddle.

* * *

><p>"Kensi? Don't get up, baby girl." Marty shut off the alarm clock and tried to get out of bed without disturbing her.<p>

"You're going to have to stop calling me that if we do have a baby girl, you know." Kensi heaved herself up the bed and onto the pillows and surveyed the mountain of her stomach with dismay. "I could swear it's grown over night. I've feel like I'm going to give birth to a baby elephant."

"Jumbo Deeks? That's kind of catchy."

"What is it with you and these mad names? What's wrong with Jane or Peter?"

"Nothing. But you can't exactly claim Kensi is anything but unusual."

"That's why I want my baby to have a normal name. And before you say anything, Densi is not normal."

"It's Denis – only a little bit mixed up."

"Our poor child is going to be mixed up enough already, what with us for parents, Uncle Callen who doesn't have a first name and Auntie Hetty creeping around like a ninja. Don't let's tempt fate any more than we already have."

"How about I just bring you some juice and you lie here for a while?"

"After I make another visit to the bathroom. I swear, I could set records for peeing. But I am kind of tired."

Marty instantly looked worried. Kensi never willingly admitted anything so mundane as being tired. "You're sure you don't want me to stay home? I could phone in – Hetty will understand." He looked at her carefully. "And you do look kind of tired."

"I'm not ill, I'm only pregnant. And you'd look tired if you'd had to get up three times during the night to pee. A couple of hours more sleep and I'll be fine."

"You'll call me if you need anything? Promise me?"

"I promise. Just remember, millions of women do this every day."

"But you're one in a million. You're my one in a million."

"And don't bother with the sweet talk. It was your silver tongue that got me in this state. I'm never listening to you again." Kensi collapsed gratefully into bed, closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep. She ddin't hear Marty come out of the shower and get dressed, nor did she stir when he kissed her goodbye and crept out of the house.

The baby-seat was sitting in the hall, all ready to be put into the car and as he looked at it, it suddenly struck Marty that his whole life was about to change. It was going to be completely terrifying, but it was the most exciting thing he'd ever experienced.

* * *

><p><strong>Three Years Earlier<strong>

"Federal Agents!" Marty bawled, standing to one side, just in case the kids decided to try to blast their way out. The house remained quiet. He banged on the door again, adding "We've got a warrant," for good measure.

"No sign of life back here," Kensi's voice informed him.

"All quiet on the western front. Okay, I'm going to try and break the door down." It only took a couple of well-aimed kicks. "I don't know what the world is coming to. In my day, drug dealing mercenaries at least had a steel reinforced door. Now it's like they're so complacent they don't even bother to put up a show – because they think they're immune."

"Shut up." Kensi materialised to stand on the other side of the doorway.

"I'm only saying. People used to have certain standards." Marty took a quick look into the dim interior and then ducked back to cover. "No sign of intelligent life."

It was probably tempting fate, because that was the point at which all hell broke loose.


	5. Chapter 5

One second the narrow hallway was empty and Kensi was just moving forward, while Marty provided cover, while the next moment a figure came barrelling around the corner, head down and taking no prisoners, least of all Kensi, who received the full force of his weight directly into her midriff. While she crashed down backwards, her assailant's low centre of gravity meant that he was able to keep on running, vaulting over the doorstep and pelting down the path.

"Shit!" Marty had been unable to fire, as Kensi had been directly between himself and the intruder.

"Get after him!" she wheezed, all the air forced out of her body by the tackle, but he was already sprinting off in pursuit. Kensi pulled herself up onto her knees and concentrated on trying to be able to take a breath. Just one breath, that was all she asked for. That wasn't too much to ask for, was it?

"Eric? Suspect escaping on foot. Deeks is chasing," she gasped

"Are you all right, Kensi? Cos you sound a bit faint." The concern in his voice was audible.

"I had the wind knocked out of me, that's all. I'm still at the house and I'm going in." Cautiously, Kensi kicked open the door to the living room. A young man sat slumped in a chair, not moving. "We've got one suspect – and he's not going to tell us anything." Just to make sure, she felt for a pulse, even though the body was already cold to the touch. "Nope – he's gone. You'd better send over the M.E. Looks like he couldn't resist trying that coke." She moved quickly through the house, ascertaining that it was empty. "No other suspects."

"M.E.'s on his way. I'm tracking Deeks by the GPS on his cell phone. It looks like he's still chasing the guy. Right now he's two streets over and to the north of you." As Eric monitored the chase, Nell was already contacting the LAPD to get them to secure the crime scene.

Kensi was already on her way back to the car. "I'm in pursuit. Start directing me, Eric. I'll try to get ahead and cut the suspect off – he got a good head start." The tires squealed as she pulled away from the kerb and the quiet suburban neighbourhood was disturbed once again. Judging from the number of people who came out into their front yards and stood looking astounded at all the activity, the two teens had managed to keep their illicit activities well-hidden.

There were too many kids around: riding their bikes, playing ball on the grass and Kensi couldn't drive nearly as fast as she'd have liked – it was just too risky. Talk about hiding in plain sight – whoever had picked this location had been very smart. Who would suspect anything untoward in this suburban ideal, where they probably even had neighbourly cookouts and went carolling from door to door at Christmas? Still driving cautiously, Kensi saw an intersection coming up. "Which way, Eric?"

"Go straight over. Then hang a left at the next intersection." Chancing her luck, Kensi only slowed down slightly as she approached the junction and then immediately increased her speed back up when no other cars were immediately evident. There was no sign of either Marty or the suspect and she was beginning to get worried. Surely she should have caught up with them by now?

From the moment he started running, Marty concentrated on closing the distance between himself and the suspect. The kid was fast, but he was no runner, with arms flailing wildly all over the place and he was probably under the influence of that reward package cocaine. They didn't call it marching powder for nothing. But stamina and powder would always triumph and Marty was making up the ground between them. Running was also about technique and he was able to get into the zone and know that his body would do whatever he asked of it. The noise of his feet pounding on the pavement was counterpointed by the beating of his heart and the sound of the blood pounding in his ears as his adrenalin levels continued to rise, and this only served to spur him on. Right now, he felt as if he could run forever and Marty increased his pace accordingly. He was nearly there now, just a bit more effort and he'd be able to reach out and grab the guy. As he racked up his space another notch, Marty was aware of the shocked looks on the faces of the people he passed. It looked like the most excitement this neighbourhood normally experienced was Girl Scouts coming round and selling cookies. Seeing a man pelting along with a gun in his hand was definitely out of their comfort zone. It must be nice to live in such a place, he thought vaguely and then decided that it was time to put an end to this nonsense. He was preparing to launch himself into a flying tackle when the little weasel suddenly broke right and started to yell at the top of his lungs.

"Sharp right, Kensi!" Eric's voice was shrill with excitement and she slewed the car accordingly. "You're almost there. You should be able to catch up with Deeks at the top of this street."

It was about time, she thought. By now, the chase had been going on for long enough she'd left the residential area and the neat houses had been replaced by light industrial units and Kensi was able to put her foot down. The chase had been going on for far too long and it was time to bring it to an end.

"Dammit! He's changed direction. U-turn, Kensi."

Setting her jaw, Kensi managed to pull the car around 180 degrees and then tore back down the road. "It would be good if you could give me a clue here, Eric. I'm not psychic." She'd been driving for far too long without catching sight of Marty or the suspect and Kensi was beginning to get worried.

"We've lost signal. Kensi. Try going left." Eric stared at the screen in frustration. Hetty was standing behind him, monitoring the situation and she was standing entirely too close for comfort. She was standing so close that he could feel her breath warm on the back of his neck, and he gave a reflexive shudder that might almost have been a reaction to a goose walking over his grave, if he had been superstitious. Which he wasn't. Not in the slightest.

"It's a dead end." Kensi thumped the steering wheel in frustration, and then fought to bring her temper back under control before slamming the car into reverse and backing back down the alley.

"Sweet Jesus." She only saw the youngster at the last minute, and even jamming on the brakes was not enough to stop the car hitting him. His surprised face smashed against the back windshield and hung there for a second, before sliding slowly downwards, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. That was the bad news – the good news was that she'd managed to apprehend the runaway.

"Suspect apprehended," Kensi said triumphantly and got out of the car. "And he appears to more or less in one piece. Thought I'm not so sure about my car. Now, how about you tell me where Marty is and I'll go pick him up, okay Eric?"

She levelled her gun at the boy, who was sitting on the ground, gasping for breath and coughing up gobbets of blood and produced her badge. "NCIS. Looks like you've lost a few teeth there." All things considered, he was in better shape than he had any right to be.

"You assaulted me!" he said indignantly.

Kensi was not in the mood to dole out any sympathy, and certainly not to a suspected teenage gun for hire. "You shouldn't have run then, should you? We call that 'evading arrest'. And look at the state of my car. You've made a big dent in the trunk and there's blood all over it. We call that one 'damaging federal property'. And that's just the start of the charges, Luis." He didn't look threatening – he just looked like any one of a hundred kids she saw every day in the parks, on the streets, coming out of school. He just looked ordinary. There was nothing that marked Luis out as a killer. He could have disappeared into any crowd with ease. But Kensi was under no illusions about how deceiving appearances could be. She snapped the cuffs around his wrists and bundled him into the back of the car.

"I need medical attention," he whined pathetically. "I could bleed to death here."

"I should be so lucky. We'll see about getting you fixed up after we find my partner." Kensi started the car again, as Eric relayed directions that would take her to Marty's last known position.

"The blond guy?" Luis started to snigger. "Man, he went down hard." There was enough cocaine in his body to counteract any pain from the impact, but judging from the way his face was starting to swell up, he'd be feeling very sorry for himself in a few hours. At least Kensi hoped so

"You want to shut up?" Kensi snarled. Catching sight of the fury in her eyes in the rear view mirror, Luis subsided into the occasional chortle. She contented herself with the knowledge that prison dentistry was not going to repair his smile any time soon. Still, the type of inmate who liked young boys probably wasn't going to be too fussy about three or four missing teeth. It might actually be an advantage. She kept a close eye on him, just in case he was tempted to hawk a gob of bloody spit at her.

"Right around this next corner," Eric directed. "Let me know if you see him." Behind him, Hetty still stood anxiously, only now she had started tapping her fingers in a rather annoying fashion.

"I can see him." The relief in Kensi's voice was palpable. "But I think you might want to send an ambulance."

"Report, Ms Blye," Hetty said, her peremptory tone failing to disguise her concern.

She pulled her car into the side of the road and strode over to where Marty was sitting on the kerb, huddled over protectively and cradling his arm. "You okay?" It was a stupid question, and she knew it. But all she could think of was that he was alive – that was the main thing. Actually, that was the only thing that mattered.

"I think I might have broken my arm," Marty admitted in a tightly controlled voice. There were beads of sweat standing out his forehead and his lips were set in a thin line. "I nearly had him when the kid decided to call for help – claimed he was being kidnapped - and this good Samaritan came out of nowhere and tackled me down to the ground."

"And you landed on your arm?" Kensi really didn't like the way he was looking.

"On my elbow. I tried to roll, but he was a lot bigger than me." Marty gestured over to where an extremely large man was standing looking shamefaced. He was roughly the size of two normal people squeezed into one very well-padded body and probably had to buy two seats on an airplane.

"It could have been a lot worse. If he'd actually landed on you, we'd be looking at internal injuries for sure. Or you could have been squashed flat – you know, like you used to see in the cartoons." _Well,_ she reasoned, _they say laughter's the best medicine._

"That's not exactly helping." The pain was starting to build up to the sort of level where he wanted to swear very very loudly indeed, only there were all these little kids standing around.

"Sorry." Kensi sat down beside him and slung her arm around his shoulders. "If it helps, you could lean on me?" In the distance, she could hear the familiar screech of ambulance sirens.

"Thanks." Marty was breathing as shallowly as possible, having discovered this really helped to bring the pain back down to manageable levels. It also made the world slightly blurry at the edges, but that was just fine. He wasn't too keen on the world right at this moment.

"How about I take a look at it?" she suggested gently.

"No way. I don't want anyone touching it." That sounded really stupid, but just the slightest movement made the pain so intense that Marty was afraid he was actually going to throw up.

"You want to put your head down?" Kensi really didn't like the way he was looking right now – a disconcerting shade of greyish-white.

"Not particularly. I don't want to move at all, thank you very much." Marty was getting very light-headed now, which was a good thing, he thought, because his arm felt as if it had been sliced straight through the bone with a red-hot sword.

"Report please!" Hetty repeated, having only been able to catch one side of this conversation.

"He's almost in one piece, Hetty. But it looks like he's smashed his arm pretty thoroughly." Kensi stifled back an exclamation. "And now he's just passed out on me. Great. I'll get back to you later, but I'm kind of pre-occupied right now." She pulled out her earpiece, looked down at Marty, and felt her stomach start to protest when she saw the state of his arm.


	6. Chapter 6

_well, evil plot bunny had maimed Marty at the end of I'm Not in Love, so this was only to be expected... And as I always maintain, he does maim beautifully. Anyway, slushy plot bunny has made a welcome return too._

* * *

><p>"Oh Marty – what have you managed to do to yourself now?" The skin on his right forearm was stretched taut as the jagged ends of bone pressed against it, threatening to pierce through at any second. "Small wonder you checked out of reality. I can't say I blame you." The ambulance was pulling into the street now, so she settled for merely pulling his head down onto her shoulder protectively.<p>

"Federal agents," she said wearily, showing her badge to the crew. "He was injured chasing a suspect." Unwillingly, she moved to let them take care of Marty, watching as they eased him down onto the ground. "He was in a lot of pain," she added unnecessarily.

"Nasty injury." The paramedic knelt down beside his patient and started cutting off his shirt before moving into the familiar routine of taking basic observations. "This is going to need to be fixed surgically."

The patient groaned quietly. "It's not that bad," he protested. "Can't you just splint it?"

"That's not going to work. Both bones are displaced and it looks like you've got a couple of oblique fractures there into the bargain. If I'm any judge, that's going to need some internal fixators to put it all back into place and to make sure it stays in place." As he talked, the paramedic slipped a cannula into Marty's forearm and started a drip. "Just lie back and relax and let us do the worrying here, okay?" He looked up at Kensi. "I've given him some pretty strong painkillers."

"It sounds like an awful lot of fuss for a couple of broken bones," Marty said mutinously.

"Not if you actually want to use your arm again."

Kensi sat down in the road and took hold of his hand. "Why don't you just shut up and let them o their job? You're only delaying the inevitable, you know." She smiled at the paramedic. "He's not very good with drugs, by the way."

"I'm very good with drugs. I love drugs. And drugs love me. In fact, I'm great with drugs. And these are really great drugs. I can recommend them."

"See what I mean?" Kensi raised her eyebrows. "And just stop babbling, will you? I know it's the drugs talking but it's getting old kind of quickly."

"You're partners, right?"

Marty gave him a woozy grin. "Oh yes. In every sense of the word. Perks of the job. Downside is I get hurt – a lot." He took a look at the second paramedic, who was getting the gurney ready. "I don't fancy yours much though."

"See what I mean about the drugs?" Kensi said. "Just shut up, will you?" She gave his hand a squeeze.

"You're always nagging me, Kensi." He tried to give her his patented 'kicked puppy' look but it seemed like an awful lot of effort.

"I wonder why?"

"Okay, I'm going to put a splint on this. And we're going to have to move that arm, so it's going to hurt."

"No shit." Marty took a deep breath and concentrated very hard on biting down the pain that flared like a rocket firing directly into his arm.

As Kensi watched, what little colour he had in his face seemed to drain away. "Squeeze my hand," she said quietly, wishing she could take away some of the pain.

"okay, that's it." The splint started to inflate and the pressure just added to the agony.

Marty just managed to stifle back an oath. "I lied about those drugs. They're really not that good after all."

"I might just ask for some myself." Kensi managed to disentangle her fingers from his grasp and surveyed her reddened hand ruefully. Her attention was diverted as the paramedics started to check out Luis, who was still sitting in the back of the car. "Hey – you can leave him. I'll get another team to bring him in."

"He's taken quite a beating to his face." There was mute accusation in the medic's voice. Luis looked particularly young and vulnerable.

"Yeah, running headlong into a car tends to do that." Kensi stood up and walked over to them. "You are not putting him in the same ambulance as my partner, understand? My partner was injured in the course of his duties – which involved trying to catch this murdering piece of drug-dealing scum. So forgive me if I'm treading on your toes, but that punk is not going anywhere near Marty. Understand?" Without giving them a chance to respond, Kensi stalked back over to Marty and pulled out her cell phone.

"Hetty? Can you get another team over here to collect my car and bring the suspect in? We've got some bleeding heart liberals here who seem to think he needs some TLC."

"Mr Deeks is alright, isn't he?" Since Kensi had abruptly cut off communications, Hetty had been left hanging in mid-air.

"No, he's not." Kensi fought to keep the anger out of her voice. "He's smashed up his arm pretty badly and he's going to need surgery. And some guy who seems to think he's Johnny Gage out of _Emergency!_ wants to take that punk kid in the same ambulance as Marty."

"You're mad, aren't you?" Marty sounded confused. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you, sweetie. Well, I am a bit." _Because I hate have to stand here , watching you lying in the road and know there isn't a damned thing I can do about it._

"Sorry. I didn't mean to mess things up." The drugs were really working now, and it was getting increasingly hard to stay awake or to concentrate on anything except riding out the next wave of pain. Because while the drugs were messing with his head, they weren't doing that much to dull down the pain.

"You didn't mess anything up," Kensi assured him, and stroked his hair back tenderly. "We got the kid, remember? I'm just having a slight difference of opinion with Batman and Robin over there." She gave them a piercing look. "Any chance we could get my partner into hospital some time today?" her tone made it very clear that no response was required.

"Ms Blye? You stay with your partner. Another team is on its way and I'll meet you at the hospital," Hetty said, wondering just how much bridge-building she was going to have to do with the emergency services. Not that she blamed her agent – but she didn't want NCIS to laid open to accusations of not treating suspects in accordance with their rights. It was just a pity that their rights often seemed to over-ride those of the people charged with enforcing the law and ensuring public safety. Sometimes it seemed as if the world had gone mad.

By the time Hetty arrived, it was to find both her agents in the resuscitation area.

"His sats kind of crashed on the way in," Kensi explained. "The paramedic insisted on giving more pain relief, even though I told him Marty doesn't tolerate drugs very well."

"One shot and I'm anyone's" he quipped weakly.

Hetty went closer and took a good look at him. "You appear to be somewhat under the weather, Mr Deeks." He was lying on a gurney, bare-chested and with a sheet pulled up to his waist. The shattered arm was protectively encased in an inflatable splint; heart and blood pressure monitors were in place, along with a nasal cannula delivering oxygen and an IV line. Hetty felt fear clench around her heart, but she kept her face schooled to impassivity.

"I'll be fine. Everyone's just making a fuss. It's only a broken arm."

The x-ray was up on the screen and even from across the room Hetty could see that it was somewhat more than 'just' a broken arm. "You just let the doctors do their job, Marty. And that's an order."

"Now you've got me worried. I know it's bad when you call me 'Marty'. Or when you're nice to me."

"It's not that bad," Kensi soothed. "Probably not even bad enough to get you some jello. They save that for the people who're really ill."

"Good. They can have mine then. I hate jello."

"So don't complain next time I pinch yours, okay?" Kensi bent over the gurney so that their faces were almost touching.

"I thought you said I wasn't getting any jello?"

"So I lied. But I'm not lying about this: I love you. And I want you back to full health and bugging me, okay?" Out of the corner of her eye, Kensi could see a nurse signalling that they were ready to go to theatre. She lent closer and kissed him softly. "You be good, you hear me?" _Because I want you back, safe and in one piece. Because I really, really need you._

"I'll be good. I promise." Marty shut his eyes briefly as the gurney started to move. "And I love you too. So don't worry."

"Like that's going to happen." Kensi brushed away a stray tear, only to find that it was replaced by another. "This doesn't get any easier, does it?" her eyes were fixed on the gurney and the group of medical staff that surrounded it as they left for theatre.

"It only gets worse," Hetty said wisely. She knew that once you gave your heart away, it was always going to be vulnerable. That was the problem with love – it left you so exposed, for you not only ached for yourself, you ached for the one you loved. She'd never quite got the hang of coping with that side of love, and as she watched the gurney disappear, she rather thought that she never would. And although she would rather sit through an entire season of _Keeping up with the Kardashians_ rather than admit it, she did love her team: she loved them deeply. So when they hurt, Hetty shared their pain. "Come on – he'll be away for some time getting that fixed. I know exactly what you need."

"A nice cup of tea?" Kensi suggested, although the two things had always seemed mutually exclusive to her way of thinking.

"Much better than that. A double measure of a very fine single malt. Everything seems a little less gloomy after that. It's the best medicine in the world."

While not normally a fan of whisky, right now Kensi would cheerfully have knocked back rat poison if it would help her feel any better. And besides, it had to be better than hanging around the hospital and driving herself half-mad with worry.


	7. Chapter 7

One very large whisky, along with a side helping of amusing anecdotes from Hetty, later and Kensi felt able to start to face reality all over again.

"He's going to be in hospital for a few days, isn't he?" she said sadly. That was going to take some getting used to, because they hadn't spent a night apart since the last time Marty was in hospital – only that was something she was trying not to think about. For the first time Kensi was painfully aware of just how intertwined their lives had become.

"I would think so. It was a severe injury, requiring invasive surgery after all." Hetty looked across the table at Kensi, who appeared to be contemplating chewing her fingernails. She resisted the temptation to reach across the table and slap her hand. "Don't do that. Because you'll hate yourself later and possibly ruin your teeth into the bargain. God gave us fingernails for a variety of reasons, one of which may indeed be a method of stress relief, but those are acrylic and therefore fall outwith that category."

"And they cost a fortune." Kensi admitted, and clasped her hands together to avoid further temptation. "Could we go back now, please? I think I'd just rather be at the hospital – just in case."

"Of course. But he will be alright, you know. He's young and he's fit."

"He's very fit indeed," Kensi said and then clapped her hand over her mouth. "I can't believe I just said that."

"I'm not a nun, Kensi. And while I may wear glasses, I'm not blind either. So I have noticed Marty's physical attributes."

"Yeah. Can we change the conversation now?" _Because Marty will kill me if he ever finds out we've been talking like this about him. And I'm not ready for it either._

"I never had you down as prudish, my dear. Ah well, we live and learn."

Kensi choked back a splutter as she thought about how prudish she was most definitely not. That incident in the Armoury had to count for something, didn't it? It wasn't just everyone who could strut up and down wearing nothing but a couple of bandoliers across their chest and carry it off with aplomb, after all. And she hadn't looked too bad either after she'd finally persuaded Marty that it was her turn to try them on.

* * *

><p>"She'll never know," Marty had said persuasively. "Even Hetty isn't all seeing."<p>

"You want a bet? This is Hetty we're talking about after all. The woman with the secret ninja skills."

"I checked with Eric and I know how to disable the security cameras. Just temporarily."

"Great – so now you want to add tampering with federal property to this list of rules we're about to break?"

"We're not at school, Kensi – and Hetty isn't the headmistress. We're not breaking any rules. Well, maybe with the cameras we are – but I'm going to put them back on again. So it's more like bending them a bit."

"You really should have gone on and practised law," Kensi said when she managed to get her breath back. "Because that is a magnificent piece of thinking. You're wasted in an occupation that means you actually have to uphold the law, rather than tying it into linguistic knots."

"Technically, it's called being economical with the actualitié."

"And you say that as if it's something to be proud of." Kensi shook her head sadly.

"Come on – you're in denial here. You want to do it – I want to do it. So why are we quibbling over details?"

"Because if we're caught that would be gross insubordination and we could be dismissed? Small details like that tend to worry me."

"We're not going to get caught. And anyway, it's like forbidden fruit. Once you start thinking about it, the whole idea is just so good you can't stopping thinking about it and before you know what's happening…"

"…we're standing here in the middle of the night and I'm watching you take the Armoury cameras off-line? I feel like Eve being tempted by the serpent."

"Good. That makes me Adam and we're just about to get into our very own garden of Eden. That should just about do it." He looked at the security panel with considerable pride in his skills.

"Excuse me? 'Just about' doesn't work for me. It's all or nothing." _There is no way I'm risking getting caught on camera. I'm not some bimbo like Paris Hilton after all. _

"You're so demanding, Kensi. You're going to wear me out with your outrageous sexual demands." Marty opened the doors and ushered her in with a flourish.

"I must be mad." Her fingers undid his belt with the rapidity of great familiarity and then started to unbutton his jeans. _But it's like I just can't help myself._

"Madly in love?" Marty asked curiously, as he unfastened her bra in a smooth action.

"Something like that. Or maybe I'm madly in lust."

"Lust can be very underrated. But not by me. Lust is good. God, you look good." The teasing note left his voice as they stood completely naked. "You're shivering."

"It's not exactly warm in here. How about you heat things up a bit?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

He was right, Kensi realised. That added element of danger certainly did add an extra edge to things. That and the fact she had to be very careful not to scream too loudly. Sounds did have a tendency to carry much further at night and there were still some people downstairs.

"I'm never going to look at a thigh holster in quite the same way again," she remarked later.

"It's a good look for me, isn't it?" Marty walked to the end of the room in the manner of a catwalk model, pirouetted and came back again, standing coquettishly in front of her with one hand on his hip.

"Modelling the latest accessory from the 'Hetty' collection – what every undercover agent needs. Although I'm not sure if you can strictly be said to be undercover when you're naked."

"I'm not quite sure it's my colour though. Basic black can be kind of unforgiving."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Not until you have to go undercover in a nudist colony." She looked at her watch nervously. "We'd better get going. We're supposed to be on duty in five hours time."

"Who needs sleep when you're in love?" With a sigh, he unfastened the holster and stowed it safely away. "Was I right, or was I right?" _Go on – admit it. This was a great idea. Probably illegal, possibly stupid, but definitely great._

"Don't gloat. It's not becoming in an adult." _You were definitely right._

"But you still love me anyway, don't you?"

"Oh, you're completely irresistible. That's the problem."

"There's no problem without a solution. Want me to make it up to you when we get home?"

Kensi smiled. "Do you really have to ask?"

* * *

><p>"Mr Callen reports they should be home by this evening. It seems one of our Marines knew our cocaine overdose victim and was concerned at the turn his life had taken. He and his buddies went down to Mexico to try to make him see the error of his ways. It was a foolish action, however well-intentioned." Hetty permitted herself a small smile. Her agents were coming home – they would be back tonight – and they would be back in one piece. That was always the important thing.<p>

"So Luis and Carlos just shot them? They shot three Marines, one of whom was a friend?"

"Perhaps they perceived the Marines were threatening what was becoming a very comfortable lifestyle?"

"Or perhaps they were just hyped-up on the power that carrying an automatic weapon gives you?" Kensi countered.

"You may very well have a point there." Hetty was just relieved that her agents were returning safely. There had been enough excitement for one day already. And talking of excitement… "By the way, if Mr Deeks ever wants to explore the delights of the Armoury again, tell him that he really should be more careful and research the subject more thoroughly. Not everything is what it seems, you know. Not even me." Struggling to contain her laughter, Hetty got out of the car and walked towards the hospital entrance. The moment she had seen the footage from the hall camera of the pair going into the Armoury with furtive looks on their faces, she had known exactly what they were up to. It was good to realise that the traditions she herself had been inducted to in her younger days were still being kept up by the next generation. What the point in teaching people all about subterfuge if they didn't occasionally use it for their own benefit?

"It's a good thing you're already in hospital, Marty Deeks," Kensi said between gritted teeth, "Because you are going to be in need of medical attention when I get my hands on you."

"Detective Deeks," Hetty said to the lady at the reception desk. "Detective Martin Deeks." She showed her NCIS identification, just to make sure there was not going to be any difficulty thrown in their way.

_As if there are going to be two_, Kensi thought. It was hard enough coping with one._ Imagine if his mother had had twins? Imagine if there was two of him?_ No, she actually couldn't do that. It was inconceivable.

The receptionist scanned the screen and then looked up with a smile. "He's still in recovery. But you can go on up to his room and wait."

The moment she heard that, Kensi was haring towards the elevators and jabbing at the up-arrow buttons, while Hetty followed at a more sedate pace. "Come on," she urged, dancing from one foot to another. Was 'still in recovery' good or bad? All sorts of scenarios were flying through her mind, and none of them were good.

"We could still have some time to wait, you know. Perhaps you might want to go home and get some of his things?" Hetty forbade to mention the fact that Kensi had not even bothered to wait long enough to find out which floor he was being taken to. Luckily, she had more sense.

"No way." Kensi was adamant. "Not until I've seen him." _Not until I know he's okay._

"Very well." By now Hetty was giving serious consideration to asking one of the nurses to give her agent a quick shot of valium. She wasn't quite sure who would benefit from that most – herself or Kensi, but it was a very tempting prospect.

No sooner had they settled themselves in the chairs inside the fifth floor room that there was a flurry of activity in the hallway outside and a gurney was wheeled in.

"Marty?" In a trice Kensi had leapt out of her chair and was peering anxiously at him: being splendidly unconscious, Marty was completely impervious to her distress.

"He'll be out of things for a while," the nurse advised. "You might want to go away for a couple of hours and then come back."

"She wants to stay," Hetty said, just as Kensi opened her mouth to state exactly the same thing. "And I'll stay to keep her company." _And because I really couldn't go until I know that Marty is going to be alright. It's one of my little foibles – I find it hard to concentrate when I'm worried._

"Why's his arm not in a cast?" Kensi asked. It was merely placed on a pillow by his side, with a large surgical dressing covering the sight of the fractures.

"The bones were pinned with surgical screws and a plate. They won't move. And we need to make sure the wound is healing properly before we even think about putting a cast on. With an operation like this, where you have metal implanted directly into bone, there's always a risk of infection. So, for the next few days, whenever we change the dressings, we'll be using strict aseptic protocols, just in case. And we've given him a good shot of antibiotics into the bargain."

"Probably just as well. The last time Marty was injured, he came down with strep throat."

The nurse gave her a curious look. "I'd imagine that was totally coincidental. Not actually anything to do with the actual injury?"

"Considering Mr Deeks was shot in the _gluteus maximus_, I'd imagine you are correct," Hetty informed her drily.

"He doesn't have much luck, does he?" The nurse was clearly trying not to smile when she heard of the previous injury.

"Oh, it wasn't entirely unfelicitous, was it Ms Blye? It did help to clarify certain matters." She settled back into her chair and produced a book of Sudoku puzzles to pass the time. While Marty was indeed very pleasant to look at, there was a limit to the entertainment value provided by an unconscious man. Not that Kensi seemed to think so. Undeterred by the lack of response, she sat stroking one finger gently up and down his forearm, her eyes never leaving his face for a second. For some strange reason though, Hetty found it difficult to concentrate on even the simplest number grid, and spent most of her time gazing blankly into space.

Eventually Kensi was reward by a flickering of eyelashes, followed by a brief grimace of pain as Marty struggled back to consciousness. "Hey, you," she said softly, as Hetty made her way over to the bed, the Sudoko puzzle left forgotten at the side of her chair. "You're in hospital."

"Okay." He closed his eyes and digested this information slowly. "Why?" he asked after a long pause.

"You had an operation." It seemed simplest just to keep things straightforward.

"Okay. It doesn't hurt, though." Marty felt as if he was floating on a cloud of cotton wool and his head was buzzing pleasantly. Nothing seemed particularly real. "Hi, Hetty." Things were officially weird when Hetty was standing looking at him like that – like she cared, or something. Clearly they'd given him some quite excellent drugs.

"You get plenty of rest, do you hear me, Marty?" Hetty tried to sound fierce, but didn't quite manage it. She patted his bare shoulder awkwardly. "I'll just give you two some time alone together." _I feel decidedly surplus to requirements._

"Thanks." Kensi picked up Marty's uninjured hand and kissed it. "I'm so glad you're awake. I've been really worried."

"I'm fine. I really feel fine. I'll be out of here tomorrow." Marty gave her a sleepy grin, yawned briefly and then slipped back into the blessed unconsciousness that he could no longer fight.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why hasn't he got a cast on his arm?" Sam sounded disappointed. "I bought a new Sharpie especially." He'd spent a good deal of the journey back to LA composing messages to inscribe on it, none of them particularly complimentary, and all requiring a "Parental Advisory" warning.

"How can Deeks manage to do so much damage just by falling over?" Callen wondered. "It's like he has this inbuilt self-destruct button. You might want to consider taking out life insurance on him, Kensi. You could retire a very rich woman."

"I heard that. And I didn't just fall over. I was tackled by a guy who would have to go on a diet before he got a job playing Santa Claus." Marty roused and gave them accusatory stares.

Callen had the grace to look slightly abashed. "I thought you were asleep. But I did bring you a present." He waved a bottle of tequila invitingly.

"That'll do nicely for our housewarming party," Kensi informed him and promptly confiscated it. "How about you two stay here and keep him company for a bit, while I go get a change of clothes?"

"I don't need any clothes. Unless they're letting me go home?" There was a hopeful note in Marty's voice as he successfully ignored the fact he was not long out of surgery.

"You keep on dreaming, Marty. That's what you're good at. I'm getting some clothes for myself. The nurse said there's a cot I can crash out on."

"And make sure you bring him some underwear," Sam instructed. "Because I'm guessing he's sitting there in that bed as naked as a jaybird."

"I'm in hospital – they've seen it all before." There didn't seem much point in denying the fact he was naked, Marty reasoned.

"What if there's a fire and you have to get out in a hurry? You could be arrested. Not to mention brining the good name of NCIS into disrepute."

"Or making all the other male patients very jealous," Kensi said wickedly. "Plus giving the ladies heart palpitations."

"I could use the sheet as a toga. We used to have some great toga parties when I was in law school." Marty smiled happily at the memories, most of which were x-rated.

"Deeks, with your luck, you'd just trip over the sheet and break both your legs." Sam sat down and made himself comfortable. "You go get Deeks some underwear, Kensi. We'll look after him."

"Where's the jello?" Callen asked. "That's the only reason I came here. This place does great jello."

"Do you practice these routines, or do they just come naturally? Enquiring minds want to know. But you're forgetting one thing." There was a smugness about Marty's voice that made Sam very suspicious.

"What would that be?"

"Well, seeing as I've broken my arm. In two places, no less…"

"Give the man a prize for providing us with a masterclass in 'How not to catch a suspect'. No, wait a minute, you didn't manage to catch him, did you? Kensi had tod o that for you."

"You'll not be laughing in a minute, Callen." Marty lay back against the pillows and wondered if he could push the pain button without either of them seeing. It was a fair bet that neither Sam or Callen would ever admit to a small thing like gut-wrenching, head-spinning pain. But then, they were gods in the NCIS pantheon, and he was merely some lowly liaison officer. And by God, his arm hurt. It hurt more now than it had done before the operation.

"Go on then. Seeing as how you're dying to tell us."

"It's moving day on Friday. And remember how you offered to help us?"

"I remember Kensi twisting my arm." Sam realised what he'd just said. "And with your arm out of commission… " He shook his head in disbelief. "That means you're not going to be able to do much. You're not going to be able to do anything, are you?"

"Exactly." By now Marty was finding it hard to concentrate on anything except keeping the pain at bay. His arm seemed to be throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

"Do you want to do it, or should I?" Callen asked, nodding at the patient. _Let's get him knocked out before he passes out._

Sam shrugged. "You're closer." _Go on, put him out of his misery._

"You can't hit an injured man." _Although if you knock me out, you'll be doing me a huge favour._

"Who said anything about hitting you?" Callen reached across and pushed the pain button. "First thing you learn Deeks – take the pain relief." He pushed it another time. "Morphine is your friend."

"Second thing you learn – the pain relief knocks you out." Sam watched as Deeks' eyes grew heavy and then finally closed. "Thank goodness for that. I thought he'd never shut up."

"How come we got suckered into helping them move?"

"Because we're all-round good guys?" _Well, it sounds better than being taken for a pair of mugs, even if that was closer to the truth. _"He looks quite sweet when he's sleeping, doesn't he?"

"Yeah – kind of like your best friend's kid brother." Callen looked horrified. "We didn't just say that, did we?"

"No, we didn't," Sam confirmed. "And even if we did, in our defence, we had a really long day. Travel tires you out – it's a fact. Anyway, Deeks looks more like one of those strays you see on the posters for animal charities. The ones they can never persuade anyone to adopt. They just put the mutts on the posters to make you feel guilty."

"Deeks really doesn't look too good, does he?" Callen said, after looking at him carefully. "I don't mean generally – it's just that he's gone a really strange colour and I could swear his arm's got more swollen since we arrived."

Sam took a closer look. "You've got a point. It looks like an over-stuffed sausage. But then, Deeks never does anything by halves, does he? He's probably just showing off. I suppose we'd better call the nurse." He sighed deeply. "You know Kensi is going to blame us for this, don't you?"

"Why would she do that?"

"Because she's a woman. Women and logic are mutually exclusive."

"Really?" a dry voice said behind him. "What an interesting point of view. How about I take my little old illogical butt out of here and go find you a less well-qualified but 100% male doctor then? How would that work for you boys?"

"Ignore him," Callen said smoothly. "We mostly do. We only employ him because he's big and scares most people off. But obviously not you." _My God – she's gorgeous. And Deeks is unconscious, so he can't hit on her. And it's not like Sam's going to stand a chance after that remark. The field is open and Callen is in the lead and heading for the home straight._

"I've worked the Emergency Room – there's not much scares me." _I think he's hitting on me._

Callen grinned engagingly at her, sensing there might just be a conquest to be made here. "Really? That sounds interesting. Maybe you could tell me more about that – over drinks?" _She's definitely interested. Check out the way she's standing, pushing her coat aside so I can see her breasts. And they are definitely worth checking out. Oh yes. God bless Sam and his big mouth._

"How about you let me check your buddy first?" _He's rather cute. And he's got a lovely body. And he's definitely interested._

"I'm a bit worried about his arm," Callen said, dropping his voice and oozing concerned sincerity. "I'm just a layman, of course, but is it really meant to be that swollen?" _Nothing like a bit of male sensitivity to get the ladies on-side. God bless Deeks for falling over._

The doctor bent over the bed, giving Callen a chance to eye up her ass appreciatively. And damn fine it was too. As asses went, it was right up there in the top ten percent. And that was when it was covered by a white coat. He began to imagine what it would look like in a pair of jeans and tried not to let his mouth hang open.

"I'm not happy with this. Can you two guys give us some privacy so I can examine him properly?" She turned round and flashed Callen a perfect smile. "After you've given me your card?"

Callen scrawled details on the back. "That's my private number."

"Thanks." She looked at the card carefully. "Callen? No first name?"

"He thinks it makes him sound cool. Like his idols – Meatloaf and Fabio." Sam didn't see why he should have to stand by as they flirted across Deeks. It wasn't just the cool guys like Sting who went by one name, after all – there were loads of really unattractive ones too. That should put a spoke in this little love-fest.

"Callen." She said the name slowly, rolling the syllables slowly in her mouth, as if savouring the taste. "It suits you."

_Get a room,_ Sam thought. _This is like sitting in the back seat when your buddy makes out with his girl in the front. _"We'd better get going. You know how Hetty hates it if you don't check in with her."

"Hetty won't mind." Callen was staring into the doctor's eyes, which were a bewitching green. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Jenny." She returned the gaze and bit her bottom lip.

"Aren't we forgetting something? Or rather two somethings? Like Deeks? And Hetty?" Sam was almost at the point of getting a bucket of cold water and pouring it over them.

"Who is Hetty? Your girlfriend?"

"God, no!" Callen nearly choked at the idea. "She's my boss. My very much older, very much smaller boss."

"Not that old I can't see what's going on here." Hetty held out a hand. "Henrietta Lang. His boss. Or a small thorn in his side, depending on how you interpret it. I do hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"On the contrary – you've probably just saved Deeks' life. He was kind of getting forgotten about while this pair got hot and heavy."

"I go away for a couple of hours and this is what happens?" Kensi looked at Callen and Sam and shook her head.

"Blame Callen. He was so busy flirting with Deeks' doctor that she got distracted."

"Typical." Kensi looked at Marty and her face softened. "Hi, honey. How are you feeling?"

"I want to go home." He looked at her pathetically.

"Not tonight."

"Get used to hearing that, Deeks. Once you move in together, it's the beginning of the end. First it's 'not tonight', pretty soon it's 'not this week'. And that's only the start of it. Wait till you see her with a facepack on, or have to sit there when her girlfriends come around to moan about men and watch bad movies when the football's on."

"And you wonder why your relationships never last, Callen. I really can't imagine why that might be."

"Maybe it's because he doesn't have a place of his own to take girls back to? How's that going to work out with Jenny, G?" Sam was still feeling sore_. Don't think you're using my spare room for your romantic rendezvous. Not when I'm currently between relationships. Not that I'm going through a dry patch, or anything like that. And I'm definitely not jealous. Not at all. Who'd want to go out with a hot doctor, after all_

"Jenny?"

"My doctor. She's kind of cute."

"And she made us leave while she checked him out." Sam raised his eyebrows. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to leave him lying there without any underwear."

"Poor Jenny. She's going to be sadly disappointed when she checks out Callen after seeing Marty. Women tend to notice these details." She gave Callen a beatific smile. "These little details. So don't believe her when she says it doesn't matter – because it does. Believe me on that."

"I feel violated," Marty mused.

"You should be so lucky."

"Oh, he will be. And you can believe me on that one too, boys. Why else do you think I'm spending the night here?" Kensi stretched out and snagged herself a little treat. "All this, and strawberry jello too – what more could a girl ask for?"


	9. Chapter 9

"I could ask for some peace and quiet. I feel lousy."

"You look lousy. Kind of like a parrot that's going of its seed." Callen surveyed him critically. "It's the hair, I think."

"Yeah, it's gone kind of flat," Sam agreed. "That's it – he must really be ill. Maybe we should call the emergency hairdresser?"

"Wash and blow dry - stat?" Callen suggested.

"You want to shut up any time soon?" Marty looked at his arm, which was now propped up on a pile of pillows and covered with a bag of crushed ice. "I'm in pain here."

"At least you don't have to look at your hair. Unlike us. You want we should take a photo?"

"I don't know about him – but I want you out of here." Kensi glared at them. "You can go quietly, or I can make you."

"She kicks like a mule. And in the places you don't want to be kicked. The bull's eye. Cock of the north. The dog's bollocks."

"Enough with the animal metaphors, Deeks. We get the message. Don't we, G?" Sam had no ambitions to sing soprano, or even falsetto.

"I don't even know why I'm still here. I've got a hot date tonight. With a hot doctor."

"That's so comforting, knowing she has her priorities straight," Kensi reflected. "I dislike her already."

"You're just miffed because she chose me over Deeks."

Kensi shook her head. "No, there's a definite logic bypass in there, Callen. Maybe if you start thinking with your brain instead of other parts of your anatomy you might work out where you went wrong there?"

Sam hustled his partner out of the room while he was still trying to puzzle that one out. "Think about it: exactly why would Kensi want another woman to hit on her man?" Maybe there's some truth in the saying that sex rots the brain?

"Thank you. I thought they'd never go." Marty fell back against the pillows with a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them and peace descended.

"Do you want me to call a doctor?" _One with a sense of duty and compassion and who hasn't buggered off on a date with a guy whose acting like he's never seen a woman before?_

"Not really. I can just push the pain relief button." Only he didn't. He just lay there, looking up at her with a curiously pensive expression. "Sorry I've messed up all our plans for moving."

"Who cares about that? All I care about is that you're okay. You really gave me a fright, you know?"

"I kind of gave myself a fright. It made the most gross noise ever – kind of like someone taking a big stick and breaking it. It was like I could actually hear the bones shattering into pieces."

"How about you stop right there?" Just to make sure, Kensi placed her hand over his mouth. "Unless you want me to throw up?" Vigorous shaking of the head indicated that Marty had agreed to cease and desist. "Promise?"

"I promise." It was muffled, but it was definitely a promise.

"Okay. How about I just sit here for a while and you can try some of that pain relief – see if you can get some sleep?"

"You just want to eat my jello, don't you?"

"That's right. It's the only reason I'm with you – on the off-chance you'll get injured and I can snag some free pudding." Kensi reached across the bed and pressed the pain button firmly. "Shut up and go to sleep, Marty."

"Now I know I'm ill – because that actually sounds good."

Kensi sat at the side of the bed, holding his uninjured hand until it grew limp and relaxed in her grasp. "Sweet dreams," she whispered gently, and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

* * *

><p>He felt as if he was trapped in a blazing inferno, with heat tearing at his body. The air was running out and it was getting difficult to breath. Everything was red – and where it wasn't red it was black – an unholy mixture of blood and shadows – and who knew what lurked in the shadows? And the pain – the pain was all-consuming. Instinctively, Marty started running; he didn't know what he was running from or where he was running to, but he had to run because he could stay here and be consumed by the fire. Only there was something grabbing at his legs, pulling him down and trapping him in this hell hole of heat and pain from which there was no escape. As he started to fall, he realised that he was screaming.<p>

"Marty? Marty! Wake up. It's only a dream. You're safe. It's just a dream."

Her voice guided him back to reality, away from the nightmare and back to sanity. The terrors dissipated enough for Marty to realise that it was night-time, and that he was sitting bolt upright in bed, with the bed clothes hopelessly tangled around his legs, with Kensi holding onto his shoulders and staring at him with a look of terror on her face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." He collapsed bonelessly back against the pillows and then cursed as the pain flared back up through his arm. The icepack had long since melted and the throbbing was back with a vengeance.

"Will you stop with the apologies?" Kensi looked at him, desperately trying to bring his breathing back down under control, his chest heaving with the effort. "And how about you let me help you out a bit – maybe straighten things up a bit so you're more comfortable?" As she spoke, her fingers were deftly pulling the sheets free, rearranging them neatly and then smoothing them neatly. "That was some nightmare, huh?" Her fingers moved to tangle lightly in his hair and Marty moved towards her touch, seeking confirmation that this was reality and that he was safe.

"I thought I was going to die."

"No way. I won't let you die." She noticed the sweat standing out on his face and body and went into the bathroom and turned on the taps.

"Are you trying to make me pee or something? Because I don't actually think I can manage to get out of bed right now." There weren't many people he would have admitted that to, not without having his toe nails pulled out first, but Marty knew she would understand.

"Don't panic. I just thought I'd make you feel a bit more comfortable." Kensi wrung out the washcloth and turned off the water. "See?" She sat down on the side of the bed and ran the blessedly cool cloth across his forehead, then down the side of his face and across his neck. "How does that feel?"

"Like heaven. Don't stop."

"I've only just started." Kensi pulled back the sheet. "By the way, you don't have to worry about getting up to pee."

Marty looked and then groaned. "When did they do that?"

"I guess when they knocked you out. It's pretty standard procedure in hospitals."

"It doesn't look standard. I liked my standard the way it was."

She ran the washcloth over his chest, and then stopped. "Don't be such a baby. Anyway, you're still the one I want. Nothing's going to change that. I was really worried, you know." It was an abrupt change of subjects and she dropped her gaze, unable to meet his eyes, or let him see just how badly she still felt about that moment earlier on in the day. "When I saw you sitting there, all hunched over. And then when you passed out on me." Balling her hand up into a fist, Kensi thumped him lightly. "Don't do that to me again, okay?"

"I promise. I don't actually like getting hurt, you know. Although the nursing care almost makes up for all the pain and misery. And can I ask you a favour?"

"Anything. But don't worry – I won't tell Sam and Callen about the catheter."

"Funny lady. Will you just lie here with me for a while? Just lie down beside me - and maybe hold me?"

When he looked at her like that, Kensi felt as if she'd been given the sun and moon in a bag that was studded with all the stars in the galaxy. She could drown his eyes and the way they crept past every defence she could muster to go directly to her soul, like an arrow released from a bow and flying straight and true towards its target.

"I'd love to."

The bed was narrow, but there was enough room for two people to lie side by side, if they didn't mind lying very closely indeed. Marty closed his eyes and in the silence all he was aware of was Kensi breathing: soft and deep, relaxed and slow. He tried to match his own breathing to match, so that they would be synchronised – so that they would be as close physically and spiritually as possible, in the same rhythm of life. The last things he was conscious of before he slipped into sleep was the warmth of her embrace, the way her breath fluttered across his bare chest like an invitation and the overwhelming sense of peace that descended upon him.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Present**

"Okay – that's the tenth time you've looked at your watch in the last hour. I can't stand it anymore. You want to share what's so important with us?" Sam leant back in his chair and fixed Deeks with a glare.

"Maybe he's bored? Not enough scintillating banter?" It had been quiet this morning, Callen realised. "We could play twenty questions?"

"How we do some training? A little one to one in the gym should sort him out. Get ready to eat some mat, Deeks."

"In your dreams. I get enough ritual humiliation at home." He looked at his watch again.

"You do that one more time and I'm going to pound that watch into little tiny pieces and then feed them to you. Something's wrong – so spit it out."

"Spit it out before Sam throws you to the ground and sits on your face," Callen advised. "It's like some primitive mating ritual."

"I'm worried about Kensi, if you must know. She's not been feeling too great for the last few days and this morning she was shattered – she just went back to bed. And that's not like her." _And I can't stop thinking about and wanting to pone her, just to make sure she's alright. Only she was going to try to sleep and I don't want to wake her up… and I'm officially a mess._

"No, it isn't." Callen digested the information. This really wasn't like Kensi at all – it wasn't just Deeks who was worried. "You want to swing by and check up on her?"

"I'm going to phone first. You know what's Kensi's like – she won't ever admit anything is wrong, even when it clearly is. Like it's a sign of weakness or something." _And I just want her to let me look after her. And the day that happens is the day she's on her deathbed._

"Pot: meet kettle." _Talk about the immoveable object and the irresistible force. Funny though, for once my money's on Deeks to win this one. But then Kensi's slowed down a lot over the past few weeks. Once she's bac to her normal, pre-pregnancy self she'll be back on top._

"That's not entirely fair, G. You can be pretty stubborn too. So can I. Maybe it's one of the signs of a good agent?" _Or maybe nobody else would have us?_

"Or maybe we're all just big-headed and bloody minded? God only knows what that baby of yours is going to be like, Deeks, seeing as how it's getting a double helping of the stubborn gene."

"Our baby will be stunningly gorgeous and insanely talented. And he might even inherit something from Kensi too." He looked at his watch again and reached for his cell. "Okay – so I'm officially worried. So what?"

"Did I say anything? Give Kensi my love. And tell her to take things easy or we'll send Hetty around."

Sam sniggered appreciatively. "That should do it. Mind you, putting the fear of death in to Kensi could start labour."

"I heard that." Hetty stood in front of the desks, with a concerned look on her face that seemed to soften her features. "Is Ms Blye unwell?"

"Ms Blye is in denial about the fact that Mrs Deeks is close to giving birth."

"Deeks is worried, Hetty – he was just about to call her."

"How about I just put it on speakerphone and then you don't have to miss a thing?" Sometimes it felt like the whole of OSP was in his marriage. "We can have a conference call and make like it's old times back at the office. I'm sure Kensi'll be thrilled – like she's never been away." _Who wouldn't want to do that rather than sleep or catch up on the soaps?_

"What a splendid idea." Sarcasm had never impressed Hetty, so she tended just to pretend it didn't exist. "I haven't spoken to her this week." She went to Kensi's chair and sat down. "Don't mind us, Mr Deeks. We'll let you have a little chat first. You won't even know we're here." After all, she had a vested interest – they all did. This was the first baby for the NCIS team and they were all involved, just like they always had been.

"I think it's time for my break. Which I'm going to take outside. Unless anyone has any objections?"

"None at all. Tell Kensi we miss her."

It was true, Callen realised. Things weren't the same and he was beginning to wonder if they would ever be the same again. Already things were different and once the baby came, they would change beyond all recognition. Not that change was bad: quite the contrary. Some change was great: altering your life beyond all recognition, making it so much fuller. It was like moving from monochrome into technicolour. And all because of one person. Funny how that worked. For so long he had stood on the sidelines and watched as Kensi and Deeks had danced around one another, teasing and flirting and then fighting like a pair of kids. They were like magnets that one moment exercised an attraction that pulled them together and then next moment the polarities changed utterly so that they sprang apart, mutually repelling one another. And then things had changed, changed utterly and he'd struggled to comprehend the bond that seem to have sprung into being fully-formed. Where there had been two people, now there was only the single entity of Kensi and Deeks. Deeks and Kensi. It became impossible to think of one without the other. People even started to talk about Densi.

And all the time Callen had watched, fascinated and slightly envious as his friends first fell in love, and then went on to draw closer together, forming a tight-knit unit. They made it look so easy – and they also made it look so much fun. They still argued, of course – that seemed to be an integral part of their relationship – but he suspected a lot of that was only because the make-up sex was so good. For too long, all Callen could do was to be an observer to their relationship, watching from the outside, wishing he had something comparable in his own life and all the time trying to push down the jealous feelings he had. Relationships were not his forte – they never had been. Most of the time Callen used the peripatetic nature of his childhood as an excuse, but the truth was that relationships made you vulnerable; they compelled you to let someone else close, to open up your heart. And once you did that, you gave that person the power to hurt you. So it was easier to reduce a real relationship into an affair – or rather a series of affairs. But now that was no longer enough. Now he was craving an actual, no-holds barred, all-or-nothing relationship – and that scared him. To be truthful, it terrified him. But at the same time it excited him. So it was early days? So what. It was time to stop standing in the shadows, he though – time to come forward and see if he was brave enough to take the next step. As long as she felt the same way. Once again, doubt seized him – what if he'd got this all wrong?

The courtyard of the Mission wasn't much too look at: just a flowerbed containing the desiccated remnant of some unlucky and unloved plants; a plethora of cigarette butts; a chipped bird-bath that had not seen water for years and a wooden bench that was splintering its way into oblivion. The one thing it had was peace and solitude. Sometimes that was exactly what was needed – an absence of noise, a little privacy, an oasis amidst the turmoil. Leaning against a sun-baked wall, Marty closed his eyes for a second and sent up a brief prayer and then dialled home.

* * *

><p><strong>Three Years Ago<strong>

"I could give you a piggy back?" Marty raised his eyebrows invitingly.

Kensi shook her head in disbelief. "How many times to I have to tell you: it's only when you're married that the groom carries the bride over the threshold. The clues are all there: 'groom' – as in bridegroom? 'Bride' as in married?"

"Am I missing something here?" _Like you want to get married?_

"You're missing the fact that we're not married so you don't have to carry me anywhere? Okay? Which is just as well, seeing you've got a broken arm." _I could actually see myself being married to you._

"Not just any broken arm. This is a cool broken arm that sets off metal detectors." _I'd never thought of getting married before. Never found the right girl, I guess. Until now._

"Forget the whole carrying business, okay_?" Pity you're not the marrying type. Because I would so marry you._

"I just thought it would be kind of romantic." _Not as romantic as going down on one knee and producing a diamond ring, of course. But then she'd probably just give me one of those looks._

"How about you show me how much you love me some other way?"

"You got any ideas in that deviously wonderful mind of yours?"

Kensi pretended to think. "We-ell, there's an empty apartment up there on the third floor and we've got the keys. Even if we're not officially moving in till tomorrow. So we could go up and christen our new home?"

"Start as we mean to go on, you mean? Sometimes, you are a genius." Marty patted his butt invitingly. "Come on – leap up and I'll give you that piggy back. Just to show I can be romantic."

"You're just worried about getting out of shape." Kensi jumped up lightly and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Like I'd have a chance with you badgering me for sex all the time," Marty said loudly as they went into the hall, his voice echoing loudly around the stair well. "Sometimes I think you're only after my body."

"You know what the nurse said in the erectile dysfuncion clinic said, honey. It happens to a lot of men. " Kensi smiled sweetly at the two women they passed on the landing. "I don't mind – not really. – Sooner or later you'll get it right. We just have to keep trying."


	11. Chapter 11

"Huh. Talk about a passion-killer. You're going to be flogging a dead horse. If I don't have a heart-attack first." It was harder than it looked – carrying Kensi upstairs and talking at the same time.

"Maybe you should make a bit more of an effort to keep in shape?"

"Me? I'm in great shape. I run every morning, I work out and I eat healthily. Which is more than can be said for some people." Despite all this, the last flight of stairs was a considerable effort.

"There's nothing wrong with my diet." Kensi pulled his hair.

"You want a bald lover? Keep on doing that and you'll have one, sweetheart. And there's nothing right with your diet either. It's basically 100% junk food. Processed pap. Full of chemicals and preservatives."

"I've got a busy life. Convenience food is just what it says on the packet – convenient. And preservatives mean I'll live longer. Result all round.

"And yet it doesn't take much effort to make something fresh and healthy. Something that tastes good and makes you feel alive."

"You sound like my mother."

"That's it. Passion officially dead now."

They were outside the door and Kensi jumped down. "Can you believe this is really going to happen? You and me moving in together – who would have thought it?"

"I know. Sometimes I go to kick myself and then that wound in my butt gives a throb and I don't need to bother."

"It was hardly more than a scratch. And it was an accident."

"Yeah – that's easy for you to say." Marty rubbed his butt reflectively. "I'd never hear the end of it if I scarred you for life."

"You want me to kiss it better?"

"Yes please. You want to do that right here – that way I might increase my reputation with the female neighbours?" _The ones who think I can't get it up – or keep it up. Or both. Probably both._

"Or you could just wear tight jeans. No, wait a minute – I forgot. You already do." Kensi put the key into the lock. "You ready for this?"

"It feels kind of grown-up. Like we're going to have to be responsible adults."

"I am a responsible adult," Kensi protested.

"Who lives on a diet of junk food. That's not responsible."

"You're like a broken record sometimes. You want to take over the cooking? Because that's fine by me."

It struck Marty that there was a certain inequality about this arrangement. "As well as the cleaning? And what exactly are you going to do?"

"Lounge around wearing not very much at all?"

"Fair enough. You've got a deal." He grabbed her hand and they walked into the apartment side-by-side.

"So – this is going to be home." Kensi looked around. "Think we're going to be happy here?"

"I know it."

"How about we go look at the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

So it was completely empty and there were no curtains at the windows? So what. Such things were mere niceties. All that mattered was that they were here together and their new life was about to start.

"Tell me how much you love me?" Kensi's back was pressed against the wall and Marty was kissing her neck.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways – I love how you moan when I kiss you underneath your ear."

"Oh God, yes. That makes me go to pieces." Kensi's fingers dug into his shoulders, just to make the point.

"And I love the way you taste when I kiss you." There was a long silence while he did just that.

"Keep going." Kensi's fingers were tangled in Marty's hair and she brought his lips back to meet her own.

"I love the length and breadth and depth of you." Kensi inhaled sharply as he suited his actions to the words. "I love how you look at me. I love how you love me." Each statement was accompanied by an emphatic thrust of his hips.

"I just love how you make me feel." She rotated her hips slightly and then moaned in pleasure.

"How's that?"

"Incredible. Just incredible." And then her head fell forward onto his shoulder and there was no more talking, just the sound of two bodies moving in unison, punctuated by sharp breaths. Outside, the sun was shining and it came in through the windows, the golden rays of the afternoon falling down like honey upon them as the dust motes floated lazily in the air and the world seemed as close to perfect as made no difference at all.

* * *

><p>"You're quite sure we can't do anything else? You've not got another six cartons of books you want us to haul up the stairs? Or maybe a grandfather clock? Because I feel like I go on for another four hours, no problem. How about you, Sam?"<p>

"I'm good to go. And I mean that. I want to go home." Sam flexed his shoulders and winced as his muscles protested.

"But you're coming back tonight?" Kensi flopped down onto the sofa and sighed happily. "I can't believe we're all moved in. even if we're not unpacked yet." She eyed the boxes of books, stacked one on top of the other and hoped Marty would leave them for another day. The furniture was more or less in place and that was the main thing. Everything else could wait.

"Of course we're coming back tonight. I plan to drink my own weight in beer." Callen clapped Marty on the shoulder. "Great place, by the way."

"Just make sure you've got lots of alcohol tonight," Sam instructed. "I need something to deaden the pain." Moving furniture was harder than any workout. Much harder. He hated to think how many stairs he'd climbed today, but it must be at least a couple of thousand and right now his hamstrings felt tight enough to snap. The thought of a long hot bath was very tempting indeed. A rub down afterwards would be even better, but thus far Callen had been remarkably unwilling to share his lady doctor's favours around, even when Sam had tried to persuade him it was the least a partner could do.

"Don't worry. The fridge is already full."

"You might find something extra in there. From me and G. Just to say 'welcome home.'" Brushing aside their thanks, Sam hobbled dramatically to the door. "Leave them in peace, G. They're young and in love. Try to remember what that felt like and give them some privacy."

Once they were gone, Marty went into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. "Sam wasn't kidding. Come through and see." He showed the her the label and whistledappreciatively. "Very nice too. Pity we don't have any flutes."

"They thought of that too." Kensi nodded to the kitchen table, where a box of champagne glasses was placed. "Wasn't that sweet of them?" She twirled around in sheer joy. "Can you believe it?"

"Not really. It's like a dream – too good to be true. How about we drink this outside and just sit there and feel smug about how good all this is?"

"You've got a deal."

Opening a bottle of champagne with one hand out of commission wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but eventually he managed it. Kensi grabbed the cork and put it into the pocket of her jeans, not that she was sentimental, because she wasn't, not in the slightest. She just didn't want her gorgeous terrace to get messy, that was all. It wasn't like she had any plans to keep it in her jewellery box either.

"See? I told you the roof terrace would be wonderful." So what if you had to crawl out of the bedroom window to get to it? The apartment was just perfect and once they'd finally unpacked all the boxes, it would be home.

"And you were right. As usual." Marty craned his neck." I'm almost certain that if I just stand on the table, I'll be able to see the ocean."

"Don't even think about it. The table's brand new and you've already got a broken arm." Kensi grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him back down.

"Exactly what are you more concerned about – me breaking the table, or me breaking my other arm?" he asked curiously.

"Both. And it was terribly convenient the way you managed to do that just days before we moved in."

"Sam and Callen managed just fine without me, moving all our stuff. If they ever need to get another job to pay the bills, I reckon they could set up on their own as moving men. Anyway, it wasn't like I broke my arm on purpose.

"How about you're just naturally clumsy? And don't try to tell me it was fault you broke your arm chasing a suspect. Why would I do something like that?"

"Same reason you shot me in the butt? To have me all to yourself?"

"Sometimes, Marty Deeks, you are so conceited it's untrue. You're not that great looking."

"Can I help it if you think so?"

"Okay, you've got me there." Kensi gave a sigh of contentment. "This really is great, isn't it?"

"Uh huh. I can see right down your blouse from here."

"Pervert. You want to be serious for a minute?"

Marty heaved a martyred sigh. "Kensi – you've chosen the world's best apartment. It's great, you're great: even the champagne is great. Actually, you're right. Life is great. Pretty much perfect. Apart from the broken arm, of course."

"What do you like best about it? The apartment, I mean?"

"Seriously? You have to ask me that?"

"I have to ask you that. Go on – tell me? It's this roof terrace, isn't it?" She leant forward, eyes sparkling.

"Not exactly," Marty admitted.

"Oh come on. Just because you found that cast and sling a bit difficult to manage getting out of the window. It'll get easier, I promise. And anyway, it's not it's that far down to the street. Only a couple of floors"

"It's far enough. I don't bounce, you know. I just tend to land on concrete with a loud thud that denotes several more broken bones."

"Okay. So it's not the roof terrace. Stop avoiding the issue. What do you love most about our apartment then?"

"Apart from the fact that you're in it? Okay - how about the fact that before tomorrow morning I plan to make love to you in every single room? Including the hall. And the roof terrace. So far, we've only christened the bedroom, so we've got some way to go."

"Oh. Okay. That works for me." Kensi looked at her watch. "We've probably just got time to get started before the rest of the team gets here for the party."

"I don't like to be rushed," Marty protested, as she propelled him back to the window. "Some things are too good to be rushed."

"Don't worry: we've got all the time in the world." Right now, Kensi felt that life was pretty damned perfect. And they were only just beginning. She really must have done something pretty incredible to deserve to be this happy.


	12. Chapter 12

Looking back, it seemed as if they lived pretty much in the bedroom for the first few months. More precisely, it was as if they spent all their time living in the bed, speaking of everything and nothing, sleeping oh so close, but not really closing their eyes, always conscious of the other person and scarcely daring to believe their good fortune. It was as if the whole summer had been spent underneath a fine cotton sheet that draped over the memories, imbuing them with a hazy quality, so that they were not quite of this world. It was like an occasional dream that neither could quite believe was reality.

Those were the memories, but of course the reality was quite different. Memories are recreations of the past, fixing on a single point and then developing from thereon out, emphasising and exaggerating, rewriting the past in order that it may better inform the present and justify our actions. So in retrospect, the summer seemed golden and true. And perhaps that was all that mattered? The present only lasts for a brief moment and then it is gone. But the past remains forever, and it matters not whether the recollection of those scattered fragments of time is true or just an illusion. The past influences the future and if the past was good, then the expectation is that the future will be even better. For such is hope, and it is the essential condition of human existence that hope triumphs, even over experience.

"I have to start getting out more." Marty rolled over onto his stomach and stared out of the window. "Look at it – the sky is blue, the sun is shining…"

"That sounds like the kind of poem my kindergarten teacher used to read out loud to us – usually when she wanted us to take a nap." Kensi moved so that as much of her body as was humanly possible was in touch with Marty's long length. "Anyway, this is California – and the sun pretty much shines every day."

"I'm going to go pale if I don't see some daylight soon. I don't do pale."

"Your arm's going to be pale when that cast comes off – so maybe the rest of you will match?" Kensi blew gently on the back of his neck.

"We really should get out more. The beach is only a couple of blocks away."

"You can't go surfing with a broken arm." Kensi moved so that she was lying on top of him, reasoning that she could restrain him by body weight alone.

"Did I say anything about surfing? We could skateboard though." _I know what she's trying to do. She thinks she's got me trapped. If only my arm wasn't broken I could do press-ups and use her as added resistance._

"We could not." _Mainly because I can't skateboard. And it's bad enough that one of us has a broken limb._

"It'll be fun." I need to breathe in some fresh air, Kensi. Feel the sun on my face and know that I'm alive.

"I can think of other fun things we can do. Things we can do right here." _Everything's so perfect, I could live like this forever. Who wants to go out when we can stay in bed all day?_

"We can do them later. We could even do them at the beach later. I know this quiet cove where we could sit and watch the sun go down, maybe light a fire, take a couple of blankets with us." _See – I can compromise. I'm not stubborn._

"That does sound kind of romantic." _I bet he's starting to pout, like he always does when things don't go exactly how he wants them to._

"It is. Trust me on that."

_So what do I have to lose? _Kensi thought._ Fresh air and sunshine, and a beach. There's always a beach in Marty's plans. A beach, which is by definition full of sand, which goes everywhere. And I mean everywhere. How come men never think of these things? And it's alright for him – he can pee standing up. Doesn't he ever think that it's different for girls?_

* * *

><p>"How much further to this blessed little cove of yours?" Kensi tried very hard not to sound impatient, but barely succeeded.<p>

"Not much further. And I told you it was secluded. Off the tourist trail." _We're barely out of LA._

"Much further and we'll be in Oregon."

Marty decided it was better not to mention that they'd only been driving for a couple of hours. "It'll be worth it. I promise you."

"It had better be," Kensi said darkly and glared at the road ahead, oblivious to the scenery. Still, at least this way he hadn't insisted on bringing his skateboard. Those things were for kids, and what were the chances he'd fall off it and break his other arm? "And don't think I'm going to help you pee if that happens," she muttered.

"Sorry?" _I must have imagined that. Why would Kensi think I need help peeing?_

"Nothing." She concentrated on driving and trying to ignore the fact that Marty was now singing under his breath. "You want to plug your IPod in?" she suggested. _It could be worse. He could be singing loudly._

"Didn't bring it. Have you got yours?"

Kensi handed it over without a word, but unfortunately the singing continued as Marty scrolled through the contents. If you could call it singing.

"How can you not have any Beach Boys on here?"

"How about because I don't actually like the Beach Boys? How about because they stopped recording before I was born?"

"You can't live in California and not like the Beach Boys."

"Newsflash, Marty: I can and I don't."

"And yet you have Michael Buble. Lots of Michael Buble. Too much Michael Buble." _It could be worse, I suppose; you could have Justin Bieber on there too._

"So I like Michael Buble?" _You want to make something of that? You want to get out of the car and walk back home?_

"I can see that." _It's just got worse. She's got Rebecca Black. It's official: I'm living with a woman with no taste in music._

"You want to make something of the fact I like Michael Buble, don't you? That's rich, coming from a man who likes the Beach Boys." _And who has as musical ability as a frog in a bucket._

Marty turned to look at her. "Are we having an argument?" he asked curiously. _God, you are so sexy when you're mad. Your eyes flash and everything._

"I don't know. Are we?" _If I wasn't driving, I'd smack you. Sitting there and pretending to be so innocent._

"I thought so." He switched the IPod off and started singing gently again. It appeared to be yet another number from his extensive Beach Boys repertoire. It was hard to make out the words, but Kensi was almost certain the refrain contained the phrase 'hang onto your ego', only she wasn't about to rise to that taunt. Marty was just being childish and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him see how much he was annoying her. If only he'd listened to her, then they could have been curled up in bed instead of driving for miles and having another pointless argument. The only good thing was that he seemed to have missed the fact that she had Rebecca Black on her playlist. But then _Friday_ was an iconic song, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>"Happy?" Marty pulled the quilt up around her shoulders and then chucked another piece of driftwood onto the fire.<p>

"Oh yes." Kensi inhaled the heady mixture of ozone, sea salt and wood-smoke and watched as the sparks from the fire flew up into the air in a confetti-like array of light. "This is a seriously great place."

"I thought you'd like it." Marty had been coming here for years, it was his sanctuary, his place of refuge. All the problems of the world seemed small and petty when you sat and contemplated the vastness of the ocean and realised just how powerless man actually was. He'd come to think of this as his own private beach. "You're the first person I've brought here."

"Really? Not even one of your surfer buddies?" Kensi lifted up a corner of the quilt and flipped it over him.

He moved a little closer and felt the smooth satin of her cheek as their faces brushed against one another. "They wouldn't understand. They'd see it as a great place to hang out, but not the rest."

"The solitude. It's like no one else exists." Kensi turned her head slightly and their lips met, hovering for a second and making only the barest of contacts, scarcely even brushing past.

"Like we could do anything," Marty agreed, his eyes shut in anticipation.

"Anything is possible." Kensi felt his lips part and her tongue edged forward eagerly.

"Anything and everything." And then they were kissing and the world turned upside down and inside out as everything receded and only the immediacy and the urgency was left.

This was an evening they would always recall: the darkness of the beach, where the brooding ocean and the night sky merged into one and the bonfire was a beacon of gold and vermillion burning bravely and illuminating their bodies as they made love under a panoply of stars that felt so close it almost seemed possible to reach out and capture the cold fire that burned from a thousand years ago. Everything that had gone before would cease to exist, and when they thought back to this night, all the pettiness would be wiped clean in their selective memory, and all would be left was the gold memory, which would never tarnish. All they had to do was to look up at the sky and know that the nights were warm and they were young and that life was very sweet. If they were together, they could live a thousand golden years. Once upon a time, life had been taking them nowhere, but now they could live forever in the moment and nothing could touch them, nothing could pull them apart. And if this was just illusory, an occasional dream, it was a very good dream indeed – and there was nothing wrong in dreaming.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny wants me to take him to that beach so we can sit and watch the sun set. We could do that here, only the North Sea isn't quite the same and we'd need to put on thermal underwear.<em>


	13. Chapter 13

_Readers of a superstitious nature should be aware that this is chapter 13... which is unlucky for some._

* * *

><p><strong>The Present<strong>

She was having strange dreams these days, dreams filled with colour and vaguely unsettling overtones that never quite materialised into any overt threat, but Kensi sensed there was danger lurking in the shadows of her subconscious and fought to escape the smothering darkness of her sleep. This time it was a persistent throbbing, like an accelerated pulse warning her of danger that invaded her dream and she started running, trying to escape from the unseen danger when suddenly she was awake and clutching her cell which was set to ring and vibrate.

"Did I wake you?" Marty sounded worried, she realised.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't answer sooner." Kensi shook her head, trying to clear the heavy sensation that blurred her thinking.

"I'm sorry – sorry for waking you, I mean. I just wanted to see how you were."

"I'm huge. Huge and fat and ungainly. I don't think I can fit into any of my clothes any more and I'm pretty sure they don't come in larger sizes."

"You want me to go out and buy you a muumuu?"

"No way. I'd rather walk around stark naked. Only that would probably frighten the neighbour. I'm pretty sure I've got stretch marks."

"You haven't got stretch marks," he said patiently. "I would have noticed." One of the first things Kensi had done when the pregnancy was confirmed was to go out and buy massage oil and he'd been assiduous in applying it every evening. It wasn't exactly a chore, after all. "How about I stop by the market on the way home – maybe we could have some grilled fish and rice, with a salad?"

"I'm not really hungry." Kensi's eating habits had changed out of all recognition and she'd given up her beloved junk food and sodas, although Marty was pretty sure she would revert to type the moment the baby was born.

"You've got to eat."

"I know that. I'm pregnant, not stupid. Only it seems like the baby's taking up all the room inside me right now." _Actually, the baby's taken over my whole life – and it's not even born yet._

Marty leant back and stared up at the sky, wishing he was with her, rather than at work. "So what could you eat? Some Jello?"

"I guess I could manage that."

That was a relief. He would have been really worried if she'd turned down the offer of Jello. The day Kensi refused Jello was the day he rushed her to the emergency room. "I'll bring some Jello then. And remember how much I love you."

"I'm feeling so crap because you love me. It's all your fault, Marty Deeks."

"Yeah, but you still love me, don't you?"

"You think you're so irresistible, don't you?"

"I think you're still the one I want. More than anything."

"Even like this?" _Oh God, I'm practically begging, aren't I? This is pathetic. I'm pathetic. I'm this big , fat pathetic lump. I'm not me anymore. I used to have a body like Princess Leia and now I'm a dead ringer for Jabba the Hutt._

"You know it." Marty looked at his watch and sighed. "Listen, I'm going to have to go back in. I came out for some privacy – everyone sends their love, by the way."

"Tell them I miss them." _I miss being me. I want my old life back. I want my old body back – I wasn't ready to say good bye to it. I worked damned hard for the body and now it's disappeared. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to have a baby in the first place? _

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

"What do you think about babies?" Kensi looked across the table to where a copy of the LA Times successfully obscured most of Marty.

"Babies? They're kind of like puppies, only not so cute. And much harder to housetrain. Why?" His voice was deliberately casual and he continued reading the newspaper.

"No reason." _Why do you think, Marty? Are you being deliberately obtuse?_

"You want a baby?" He put down the paper and stared at her. It was rather early in the morning to have a double scotch, no matter how much Marty felt like he needed one. Things had been strained between them for some weeks now and conversation had been reduced to the bare necessities. Eventually, weary of the awkward silences, he'd started reading the paper at weekends, almost using it as a shield.

"Kind of." Kensi looked at him and wondered what she'd done. _What the hell was I thinking? I love him so much and I deliberately go out and do something that I know is going to hurt him. What's wrong with me?_

"You want a puppy?" he asked hopefully. _A puppy would be easier than a baby. We could practice on a puppy and then work up to a baby. Puppies are cheaper too._

"Of course I don't want a puppy. We both work – how the hell could we look after a puppy?"

There was clearly some sub-text going on here. Marty had the definite feeling that he was not in full possession of all the facts. "Uh – I guess we'd work something out?" he ventured. "So, you don't want a puppy but you kind of want a baby?" He was conscious he was treading on very thin ice here. The first cracks had appeared in Galveston and they'd been growing bigger with each subsequent day.

"I didn't say I wanted a baby. Not exactly. Anyway, I asked you first."

"You want to know how I'd feel about a baby? Come on, Kensi – you shouldn't have to ask me that."

"So – and this is just theoretical, of course, in principle you wouldn't be totally against a baby?"

Marty looked at the glass of orange juice that had replaced Kensi's normal cup of coffee, and the wholemeal toast that she was slowly chewing, despite her averred distaste for anything remotely healthy. "In principle I think it would be wonderful. In practice – well, I'd love to get in some practice." _Lots of practice._ _You've got something to tell me, haven't you? You've decided it's time we tried to make a baby. Okay – I can cope with that. Maybe it might bring us back together._

"It's too late." Kensi swallowed the toast and felt it rasp down her throat. _Why does healthy food either taste bad or have all the texture of sandpaper?_

"You're pregnant?" Marty ran his hands through his hair. "Really? You're not just having me on?" _Oh my God. Sweet Jesus. Mary, Mother of God. And what about poor old Joseph? He never gets a look in, does he? Nobody asked him how he felt about the whole thing. I know he felt. I know exactly how he felt._

"Really." _He looks like he's going to pass out or something._

"How did that happen?" Marty was aware that his voice was pitched at least three tones higher than normal. _Talk about bad timing. Oh well, it's too late now. Maybe this will bring us back together?_

Giving up on the toast, which was too much like hard work, Kensi took a long draught of juice, and instantly missed her caffeine kick. "You want me to draw you a diagram?" she asked sarcastically

"I thought you were on the pill?"

_Great, put all the responsibility on me. Typical. _"Remember that mission we were sent on to Galveston? The one we left in a rush – a real rush?" _Well,_ _guess what I forgot to pack?_

"Okay. You shouldn't have bought those boots. You know I can't resist you in boots." _I can't resist you, period. That was a great night. A night to remember – probably because it was the last time we were happy. And then the next day, when we'd finished the op, who should turn up but Jack. Your ex-fiancee, Jack. The one who got away. Only this time, I was the one who was left wondering what had happened and you were the one who left. You left me standing, right there in a street in Galveston and you went off with him._

"Forget about boots – think bootees." _Little tiny bootees on the cutest little baby feet._

"Oh my God. You really are pregnant." Marty shook his head in disbelief. _You left me in Galveston, Kensi. You left me and you went off with Jack and I didn't see you or hear from you for two whole days. And you've refused to say anything about it since. What's happened to us? What's going to happen to us? Is there even an 'us' anymore? _"It had to be Galveston, didn't it?" he asked wryly._ Bloody, fucking Galveston. Where that SOB turned up and took you away._

"I'm sorry. I know we didn't plan this… " Kensi felt numb; this wasn't going at all the way she planned things. For nearly a week she'd waited patiently, trying to find the right moment, only things had been so busy at work. A relaxed Saturday morning had seemed the ideal time to casually introduce the topic. It had all seemed so easy when she'd run through the scenario in her head. "I'm so sorry," she repeated numbly. Nothing had been the same since Galveston, and she wondered if it ever would be the same again. The spectre of Jack sat between them, mocking and still managing to control her, even after all these years.

* * *

><p><em>Regular readers will be aware that life never goes entirely smoothly for Kensi and Marty.<em> _Evil plot bunny has bounced back with a vengeance - and no mistake._


	14. Chapter 14

**Three Years Ago**

They all came bearing house-warming gifts – planters full of bright flowers for the terrace; coffee mugs with 'Densi' painted across them, strings of tiny lights, powered by solar chargers that were soon strung around the terrace. Some people brought pizza, chips and dips and of course everyone came with alcohol. The apartment was full of people chatting and drinking and as the noise levels started to rise, Kensi began to wonder what the neighbours would think.

"They'll think we're having a housewarming party," Marty reassured her. And then reached round and pulled off a wad of packing tape that had somehow got stuck to her butt – probably due to their improntu session in the bedroom. There was a knock at the door and he went to open it, still continuing to talk. "You could go down and have a word, if you're that worried."

"Or I could send Sam. No-one's going to argue with him." Kensi beamed happily at the new arrivals.

"Why would people be arguing anyway?" Callen asked curiously.

"Kensi's worried that we're making too much noise." Marty smiled at Callen's date. "Nice to see you again, by the way."

"You're looking a lot better since the last time I saw you." Jenny looked at him with what might charitably be described as a professional eye. At least Callen hoped it was only that. Surely she couldn't be checking Deeks out? Hadn't she seen enough of him in the hospital?

"The door is open, but the beast is asleep." Sam fixed Deeks with a stare. "We can't take you anywhere, can we? Nobody wants to know if you're opening a hotdog stand."

"You're not taking him anywhere, Sam. You'd probably bring him back worse for wear. I know you. And just be thankful he's actually wearing underwear for once. But do us all a favour and stop advertising, will you? It'll just make Sam and Callen jealous." Kensi watched as Marty hastily did up his flies.

Sam looked offended. "I wasn't the one who shot him in the butt, was I?"

Jenny looked interested. "I wondered how you got that scar."

"She shot me. It's a long story, but basically Kensi was pissed off with me." Marty managed to look aggrieved, innocent and abused at the same time.

"And she shot you?" Jenny thought she would definitely keep her distance from this woman and wondered if it was entirely safe to allow her to carry a gun and shoot people with what amounted to state sanction.

"It didn't happen like that," Kensi protested. "Well, not exactly, anyway."

"The end result was the same though - Deeks in hospital with a bullet in his butt."

"Whoever did the surgery did a nice job," Jenny mused. "A very nice job indeed. They clearly took their time over it. And I can see why. Speaking purely professionally, of course."

By now, Callen was starting to wonder exactly why Jenny had felt the need to study Deeks' butt in such minute detail, considering she had actually been looking after his broken arm. His only comfort was that Deeks look as embarrassed as Callen himself felt. Kensi, on the other hand, was actively disliking the doctor, while Sam was 100% sure this particular relationship was not going to threaten Callen's 'six week' rule, as Jenny seemed to have even more commitment issues than he did.

"So, what entertainment have you got laid on for us?" he asked, more to break the awkward silence than anything else.

"Beer," Marty said succinctly. "That should pretty much do it, don't you think?"

"Under normal circumstances, I'd probably agree with you. But this isn't just any party – this is an NCIS party. And that makes it different."

"Technically, it's an NCIS/LAPD party," Kensi said, with more than a little pedantry.

"Little Miss Picky, aren't we? Okay – that just raises the stakes that much higher. We need to show these guys how to party properly." Callen placed his hand proprietorially around Jenny's waist, well-aware that several cops were already eyeing her up – and that she was returning their looks threefold. "Luckily, we come prepared for all eventualities."

"Why does that not fill me with unalloyed joy?" Marty had seen his share of partying over the years, but there was something about the look on Sam's face that vaguely unsettled him.

"All will be revealed in due course, young Grasshopper. You can't rush these things – we have to wait for exactly the right moment."

Jenny was losing interest in the conversation, mainly because she had spotted the bar. "Wow – jello shots!"

"Don't look at me. Guess whose idea that was?"

Kensi felt she had to defend herself. "Jello and alcohol – what could be better? If it was left up to you, all we'd have been serving was beer."

"And the problem with that is?"

"Beer works for me." Sam reached out and snagged himself a bottle.

"And you, in turn, work for me. I do hope you won't be reporting for duty hung-over, Mr Hannah?"

"Of course not." Sam felt quite safe in making the pronouncement, mainly because they were all scheduled to be off-duty the following day. That gave him almost 36 hours to metabolise the alcohol

"Then you have my permission to drink deep, ere you depart. Excellent fuzzy navel shot, by the way." Hetty nodded genially and then went back to help herself to another.

It was almost eleven when Sam realised that he hadn't seen Jenny for quite some time. Callen was deep in conversation with Nell, so it wasn't as if they had slipped off for some privacy. "G? Where's your lady?"

Struggling to hide his annoyance, Callen pulled his partner over to one side. "She left. An hour ago. No need to make a big deal about it."

"She left with that tall LAPD sergeant," Nell said helpfully. "You know the one – has to be over six foot four and with the most fabulous wavy hair?" She looked at Callen and shrugged. "Sorry about that."

"I'll live. You want to get started on the entertainment?" it was definitely time to change the subject and this was as good a way as any. Few people would remember Jenny had ever been here once Sam got started on his musical tributes.

"Sounds like a plan." Sam handed over his IPod and left his partner to go in search of a sound system while he checked his notes. They'd spent the past week making up rap lyrics about Kensi and Deeks – or Wonder Woman and Shaggy, as they were being referred to – pointing out all their little foibles and making liberal references to the fact they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Deeks' unfortunate shooting by his partner also featured prominently. However, what Callen didn't know was that Sam had also composed some new riffs on his partner. He just hoped he'd be in the right frame of mind to enjoy them. Maybe it had been a bit cheeky to choose _'Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue'_ as the backing track though? Still, judging from thethe glassy look in Callen's eyes and the way he was swaying as he made his way across the room, he was feeling no pain, so with any luck he'd forget about it in the morning. The only song Sam hadany real doubts about was the one dedicated to Hetty; _'Secret Agent Ninja'_. But what was the worst thing that could happen – getting challenged to the climbing wall? Heck, he'd been a SEAL and Sam could still shin up there in twenty second, with a full pack on his back, a knife between his teeth and whistling _'The Star Spangled Banner' _at the same time. The only thing he had to fear was fear itself. And he had a wholesome and very well-founded fear of Hetty. Still, it was a good song and it would be a shame not to share it.

* * *

><p><strong>Their First Thanksgiving<strong>

"So – Thanksgiving?" Kensi said.

"Why the question mark? It happens every year – and always on a Thursday, to boot. It's one of these things we like to call 'a tradition', you know."

"You want me to spell it out for you, Marty? What are we doing for Thanksgiving? We as in 'you and me'. Seeing it's our first Thanksgiving together."

"Not actually. Last year we spent Thanksgiving together – at work."

"But we weren't together last year. And that makes it different. This is our first Thanksgiving as a couple and I want to do something special."

"How about we spend the day in bed – eating turkey sandwiches and watching TV? That special enough for you? I could make it special – I'll dress up as an Indian and you can be some poor pilgrim woman?" _And then I can watch the football and drink beer. That's my kind of tradition._

"That's not quite what I had in mind. I was more thinking along the lines of inviting everyone over for dinner." _Knowing you, I bet you'll want to lie around all day and watch TV. And moan about the fact we gave Callen that vibrating porn chair._

"That's certainly an idea." _That's a terrible idea. Really, really bad. I don't actually see Hetty and Nell as football fans. Eric, I'm not so sure about – he could go either way. And why does 'special' have to involve other people? I can make it special for you all by myself._

"It's a great idea." Kensi sounded offended. "You're just jealous because you didn't think of it first."

"I'm just worried because I'm going to get lumbered with the cooking, that's all. Face it, Kensi -if it can't go in a microwave, then you can't cook it. And before you say anything, we are _not_ giving our guests frozen turkey dinners."

"So you agree we should invite them over? That's great, I knew you'd love the idea. And Nell's already said she'll bring a pumpkin pie."

"You've already asked them, haven't you?" Marty said wearily.

Kensi nodded happily. "Yesterday. And everyone said yes."

"What if I'd said no?"

"But you didn't, did you? And don't worry, I'll cook the turkey. How hard can it be?"

Marty decided not to say anything. It seemed wiser that way. She'd learn. And hopefully she wouldn't disturb the football too much as she did so.


	15. Chapter 15

"Why is there a turkey in the bath?" Marty asked, in as conversational a tone of voice as he could manage.

"Because I'm brining it."

"Of course you are. There's a week till Thanksgiving, Kensi. A whole week. You can't leave a turkey in the bath for a week."

"Why not? It's not doing any harm."

"One, we might want to actually have a bath at some point this week. And two – it's going to go off before you cook it. It's raw meat. And it's unhygienic to have raw meat lying out. Far less in the bath."

"I looked it up on the internet and everyone agreed you should put the turkey in brine to make it moist. And they said to do that well in advance."

"Not a whole week before. It'll be rotten before you can cook it. Okay – so we're having turkey this weekend. It'll give you a chance to get some practice in, I suppose. But next time we're shopping, how about we buy some of those big bags – the ones they sell especially for brining turkeys in?" _And I'll make sure all our smoke alarms are working too._

"How come you know about things like that?" Kensi asked curiously.

"Like what? That meat goes off quickly if it's left out? Just plain common sense."

"No – about cooking turkeys. Seriously – how do you know?"

"Didn't you ever help out in the kitchen when you were a kid? Especially on the holidays?"

"No. Pretty much I was through watching the game with my Dad and his buddies."

"Okay – so this weekend it's you, me and a turkey. A really big turkey, by the way." _And then on Thanksgiving, I can be the one watching the game. Nothing like a bit of role reversal._

"Isn't he huge?" Kensi sounded inordinately proud of the sheer size of the beast.

"He sure is." A dreadful thought struck Marty. He looked again at the turkey and did a few mental calculations. "You did you check to see if he'd fit in the oven – didn't you?"

* * *

><p>"It's not the end of the world." Marty cracked open a couple of bottles of beer and handed one to Kensi. "We can get another turkey – a smaller turkey. And the homeless shelter was really pleased when we handed that one over. They reckon they can get at least 20 meals out of him. Doesn't that make you feel good?"<p>

"Not really. Who knew ovens came in different sizes? And I don't think they should have sold me that big beast without making sure my oven was big enough."

"Chalk it down to experience." He stretched back and stared up at the night sky. "Our first Thanksgiving together. You going to make everyone say what they are thankful for?"

"Of course! Didn't your family do that?"

"Kensi – there was a reason the women were in one room and the men were in another. Mainly because it wasn't a good idea to allow them all in the same room, especially if there were sharp implements about."

Kensi sat forward in her chair and stared at him. "When are you going to stop joking and tell me about your family? You can't keep them a secret forever."

"My Dad's dead. You know he's dead. There's nothing else to say. I don't keep in touch with the rest of them. And I really don't want to talk about them. Okay?"

"No, it's not okay. But I'm not going to push you. You'll tell me when you're ready."

"Really, there's not a whole lot to say. No big mystery. Just because you're related to someone doesn't mean you have to like them, you know."

Kensi watched as he sat there, head back and staring up at the stars, almost as if he thought that if he stared for long enough the secrets of the universe would be revealed. She watched for the longest time as Marty sat in silence, drinking beer and clearly brooding. This wasn't the man she thought she knew, the man who rarely stopped talking, who could barely sit still for ten seconds without jiggling his legs, or tapping a pencil – who was so full of energy he almost seemed to sizzle. It was like she was sitting with a stranger and she realised that they had never actually spoken about the revelation that Marty had shot his father and the few snippets of information he'd let slip about his family had, in retrospect, probably just been stories made up on the spot. Sometimes, she felt as if she hardly knew him. It was as if he was bottling up all the hurt inside him and she just hope that one day he would trust her enough to let her in. She knew that not all families were happy families and that closed doors hid a multitude of sins. Oh yes, Kensi knew that only too well.

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

"So you're pregnant." Marty's mouth twisted in a mocking parody of a grin. "Congratulations. Can't have been easy telling me." He stood up and pushed the chair out of his way.

"Please – don't be like this. We need to talk." Kensi reached forward, but he brushed her away.

"You need to talk. I don't. I needed to talk weeks ago, in Galveston. I needed to talk when you finally came home. But you didn't want to talk. You wouldn't say one damn word to me, Kensi. Not one word. You just went away with Jack. And then you refused to say anything about it." _And I've been so patient, waiting for you to come back to me. _

"It wasn't easy for any of us. And I wasn't ready to talk when I came back. But I am now." _Can't you see how hard this is for me? And I never meant to hurt you. That's the last thing I ever wanted. But I have hurt you – I know that, and it's tearing me apart._

"Tough." He placed both hands on the table and stared at her. "It's too late. I've been waiting for weeks and I don't want to talk right now. I can't think of one thing I could say that I probably won't regret later on. Because no matter how much you screw with me, I still love you, God help me. I just don't like you very much right now. So I think it's best if I go out for a bit and then maybe we can try to work out if we can save this marriage."

Marty knew that Kensi was crying when he walked out of the apartment, but he steeled himself to keep on walking. He didn't know if he could do this anymore: all the pretending, the awkward silences where there had once been utter trust. It was as if that day in Galveston had shut all the doors to his dreams, so that now all he had to give was guilt for dreaming. How had things ever come to this?

Maybe it had been an omen when she'd refused to say she loved him, right back at the beginning? Maybe he'd confused love with lust and forced Kensi into a relationship that she'd never wanted? Maybe, maybe, maybe… Maybe he'd just screwed things up again? Maybe he should just keep on walking? Maybe he should have taken his gun out back in Texas and shot Jack the moment he appeared? Maybe he should just swallow his pride and go back to the apartment and tell her how much he loved her and that he'd do anything to be with her – even if that meant raising another man's child as his own. And then it struck him: supposing that wasn't what the conversation had been about at all. Maybe this was Kensi's way of saying goodbye; her way of telling him she was about to go back to Jack? Maybe, fucking maybe. Maybe he should just keep on walking after all?


	16. Chapter 16

**Galveston**

"Those really are cool boots," Marty said admiringly, watching as Kensi paraded up and down the hotel room in them. "And I like what you're doing with the hat. It works. It really works." The fact that she was wearing absolutely nothing else only added to the allure.

"See – I told you that you'd like Texas. You have to learn to trust me."

"I trust you." He grabbed hold of her hand as she passed the bed once more and pulled her down. "I trust that you're going to show me exactly what they mean by 'deep in the heart of Texas' or give me some of that southern sugar." _There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so worth doing as simply messing around with a woman in leather boots._

"With or without the boots?" Kensi asked, taking off her Stetson and trying it on him for size. "God, you look cute in that." _All the nice girls love a cowboy. Joe Cartwright was my first love, but you give him a run for his money. He had a cute butt too. And he packed to the left, just like you – which was strange, given he was a leftie._

"With. Definitely with the boots. Good thing we didn't get those spurs though. I don't fancy explaining to Hetty why my sides are raked raw. And anyway, I always look cute. It's my trademark."

"Big head. So, you don't want your cuteness impaired and yet you insisted on buying that bull whip – why, exactly?" _Okay – what plans have you got tucked up in that warped little mind of yours? Going to use it to tie me up? That would work for me._

"When in Texas and all that. And because I've always wanted to learn how to crack a whip. Seriously – haven't you?" _The things I've got planned for that whip – but I'm not going to spoil the surprise._

"Nope." Kensi tilted her head and surveyed him critically. "Maybe we should get you a pair of boots too? And how about one of those gunbelts like they used to wear in the movies – you know, the kind of low slung ones?" She smiled suggestively at the image this conjured up.

"You're imagining me just wearing a hat, boots and a gunbelt, aren't you?"

"Oh yes. And you look fine." Kensi pulled off the Stetson and kissed him. "Although you look better with nothing on at all." She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed gently so that Marty was lying on the bed, lying back and grinning up at her.

"Like now?"

"Exactly. Isn't that convenient?" Kensi replaced the hat on her head. "Are you ready for the ride of your life, cowboy?"

"Yee haw. You'd better hold onto that hat, honey."

"Promises, promises." She moved so that she was straddling him and then bent over to kiss him again, pushing the hat back with one hand, while her other moved down and captured him in a warm grasp.

"You don't pull your punches, do you?" Marty gasped and concentrated very hard on not ruining everything. The way she kissed him – the sweet urgency of her mouth, the incredible things she did with her tongue, and the way her hand was moving, caressing and teasing… He reached out and cupped her buttocks, squeezing them and easing his fingers forward to slip upwards into that incredible warm velvet wetness and feel her clench tightly.

"No need." Kensi looked at him and smiled. Some nights were all about tantalising, prolonging the moment for as long as possible, teasing each other until they were almost begging for release. Tonight was all about urgency and she eased her legs around, so that she was sitting facing Marty and all she had to do was kiss him again and tilt her pelvis slightly and then they were united, rocking back and forth and kissing as if they were trying to tear time apart. It was short and intense, peaking fast and gaining a powerful crescendo.

"I surrender." Marty lay back and smiled with a look of complete fulfillment. "Completely and utterly. Take me and do whatever you want with me. I'm powerless to resist." He felt as if he wouldn't be able to move again for hours.

"You're mine to command?"

"Always have been baby girl. You just have to say the word and I'll be there."

"I know." Kensi eased herself down to lie beside him. ""You're the one thing I know I can rely on. You're the one person that really matters." She let her hand drift across to lie on his chest, feeling his heart gradually return to a slow, regular rhythm. "You ever wondered what would have happened if I hadn't come round to your place that night?"

"It would have happened," Marty said firmly, and pulled her closer. "Because we were meant to be together. You couldn't resist me forever. Sooner or later you would have been swayed by my charms and my boyish good looks."

"You're not that good looking." Kensi 's finger described a slow circle around his nipple. She didn't want to think about the possibility that he might have just given up, given up hope and moved on to find someone else.

"Can I help it if you think so?" It should have been too soon, but someone had forgotten to tell his body that and Marty found himself reacting eagerly to the stimulus of her tough. It looked as if they weren't going to see a whole lot of Galveston tonight.

"So it was Kismet?" She let her tongue flicker quickly over the proud flesh and watched as he shivered.

"Something like that. Or even that." It was getting increasingly hard to concentrate as Kensi redoubled her attentions.

"Good. Because I need you in my life."

"You've got me. I'm not going anywhere." Lying with their arms around one another, it was if they were encircled by eternity

Looking back, Marty often wondered how different things might have been if only they'd stayed in their room all night, and then had simply left the next morning to go back to LA. But it had seemed such a good idea to check out the bar that Callen had recommended – the one that stayed open all night, played cool music and had not only a mechanical bull but the biggest array of whiskeys in the state. He could remember exactly what Kensi was wearing – every single detail, from those boots, to her dark red t-shirt that clung to every curve and those dark jeans that made her legs look as if they went on forever. The sound her heels made on the sidewalk only sounded like the ticking of a clock in retrospect. Most of all, Marty could remember how they walked along the street, arms around one another and how he had though what a lucky bastard he was to be alive in a world that contained Kensi.

It was funny, the way things turned out, because it was only moments later that his world fell apart. One minute they were walking along the street, and the next thing he knew, Kensi had stopped, quite suddenly. She simply stopped walking altogether and just stood there motionless in the middle of the sidewalk, so that passers-by had to walk around her.

"Kensi? Are you alright?" At first Marty thought something had happened, that something was wrong, right up to the second he looked at her face and had seen, not quite horror or even surprise, but something else altogether. It might even have been happiness.

"Jack?" It was little more than a whisper, but he knew instantly. "Oh, Jack." The words seemed to have been torn from somewhere deep inside her.

Marty knew that tone of voice and he knew exactly what it indicated, but then he knew every nuance of her voice. It was just that Kensi only ever sounded like that when they were alone. It was a shock to hear her use it for someone else. Especially the man who had walked out on her.

"Jack? That's Jack?" The man approaching them did not look anything like the Jack of his imagination, Marty realised. This man was only average height, with light eyes and hair of an indeterminate colour. He was just so ordinary that you would walk past him in the street and not give him a second glance. And he was older than Marty had pictured. Or maybe that was just his eyes, which looked as if they had seen too much and would never quite forget? He was nothing special and he certainly didn't look anything like the man who was about to ruin his life.

"That's Jack." Kensi pulled her hand free. "I have to speak to him_." I need to know why he walked out like that. _

"He's fine. He's out for night on the town." Marty reached for her hand, but Kensi was walking on ahead.

"Please – just trust me on this. I really need to speak to him." _I need to know how he could walk out on me when he knew how much I loved him. I need to know so that I can finally shut the door and leave him standing outside._

And that was the biggest mistake of his life, Marty realised – standing there and watching as Kensi and Jack spoke, their heads moving close together and shutting him out. There was no good reason why he should be standing there and watching instead of going over and introducing himself as the man who was married to Kensi Blye, the man who had allowed her to start believing in herself again and to start living life again instead of merely existing. But he loved her enough to let her do this, and that was his downfall. Marty thought that their love could survive until infinity, but he discovered it only took a few steps to shatter it into a thousand fragments that tore into him as he watched he get into a cab with another man instead of coming back to him. His trust died in the gutter that ran alongside the sidewalk in a busy street in Galveston where people thronged happily from bar to club and bed and he was left quite alone.

* * *

><p><strong>Their First Thanksgiving<strong>

"Wow – salt and pepper shakers in the shape of turkeys. That's really cool, Nell." Kensi placed them proudly on the table.

"I wanted to give you something you could bring out every year and remember today." Nell looked at her pumpkin pie. "Unlike this which will be gone in about five minutes." Okay, she was boasting, but it was a family recipe and it was delicious. Which was why she'd made two, and left one at home to savour slowly and in private over the weekend.

Kensi took the dish from her and sighed. "I could never make anything like this. That turkey's nearly been the death of me. Did you know you have to put your hand right up inside it to get the stuffing in?" She shuddered delicately at the memory.

"That's why they call it 'stuffing', my dear." Hetty patted her on the shoulder. "It smells delicious though." She'd had serious doubts about accepting the invitation once she discovered who was doing the cooking. However, she'd been assured that Kensi would be cooking under strict supervision and that no convenience foods were on the menu.

"It should do. I've been basting it every twenty minutes for hours." Kensi flexed her shoulders slowly. "And it's heavy too." She'd never realised that cooking could amount to hard labour. Her hands had several nicks sustained from peeling the potatoes. For some reason, Marty had insisted that mashed potatoes had to be made from scratch, even though everyone knew you could get really great frozen ones. Well, okay, maybe they weren't actually that great, but they were certainly quick. And if you gave everyone enough to drink, they wouldn't notice the difference. Kensi had discovered that wine was essential to cooking. Not to put in the food – to put in the chef. Consequently, she was feeling no pain.

"You've been incredibly busy." Nell looked at the array of appetisers: prosciutto, salami and other cold cuts; guacamole and chips; devilled eggs; gravlaks and rye bread and felt her mouth begin to water.

"Not me. Marty's been channelling his inner Martha Stewart. Did you know you can actually make guacamole from scratch? It's really kind of cool." It's still easier just to go and buy some though. Even if you don't get to lick out the blender afterwards. "He's doing deep fried camembert to serve when we're all sitting down." She couldn't quite figure out how that would work, and it sounded incredibly messy, but promised to be delicious. And as she wasn't planning on doing the washing up, Kensi really didn't care too much.


	17. Chapter 17

Eric gave a drumroll as Kensi proudly walked through bearing the turkey on a platter. All these hours in the gym were paying off, she thought. It wasn't just any woman who could carry a twenty pound turkey with such aplomb. She ignored the slight wobble in her step, putting that down solely to the high heels she was wearing. "Who wants to carve?" A deafening silence greeted her announcement. "Come on guys. I've cooked the beast and now you want me to dismember him too?" Her muscles were starting to tremble and any minute now the platter was going to start to slip and it would all be over.

"Bring it here," Sam said. "Seeing the man of the house is more like a mouse." He picked up the carving knife and shook his head. "You got a butcher's steel?"

"I sharpened it this morning."

"Not to my standards, Deeks." It took several passes across the implement before Sam was satisfied with the edge on the knife blade. "If you're going to do something, you may as well do it properly."

"Do it properly," Marty repeated. "Do I do it properly, Kensi?" He raised one eyebrow suggestively and narrowly avoided an elbow in the ribs.

"How about you go get the potatoes and vegetables?" she suggested sweetly. "Or I'll do it properly – with my knee in some other part of your anatomy?"

"Don't worry - she loves me. This is just her way of flirting."

"You might want to make sure you've got Pepto Bismol, Deeks." Callen was still not convinced of the wisdom of eating something Kensi had cooked. "Enough for all of us."

"Funny man." Kensi watched as the knife glided smoothly through the turkey. "Come on – that looks great. Admit it – it looks absolutely great." _It even looks good enough to eat. Isn't that amazing? I cooked a whole turkey and it still looks edible._

"The proof of the pudding and all that. Who wants to be first?" Sam held out a plate invitingly. It looked good, it even smelled good – but he still wasn't about to take any chances.

Eric shrugged. His mother hadn't been any great shakes in the kitchen either and he could pretty much choke down anything. Just to be sure, he helped himself to liberal portions of mashed potatoes and vegetables, then drowned his plate with gravy before taking a bite. When he finally looked up, everyone was looking at him. "What?"

"Well? How does it taste?" Kensi demanded.

"Moist. And succulent." Eric smiled. "It tastes amazing, Kensi."

All of a sudden, Sam was carving turkey as fast as he could in order to keep up with the demand.

Marty went around the table, pouring wine into everyone's glasses and then resumed his own seat. "Could I have everyone's attention for a moment?" Six pairs of eyes turned towards him.

"You're not going to make us say what we're thankful for, are you?"

"Not exactly. But I'd appreciate it if you'd let me say what I'm thankful for."

"I think that would be lovely, Mr Deeks." Hetty smiled encouragingly at him.

"Thank you, Hetty. I'd like to thank all of you, in fact, for coming here today and sharing this dinner with us. It means a lot to Kensi and me that you all wanted to spend this day with us."

"Free food and drink," Sam said. "Makes it difficult to refuse."

"Beats a convenience meal." Although Callen thought that he could have eaten been sitting in his black leather reclining chair, rather than being perched on a kitchen stool. He practically lived in that chair these days.

Marty decided to ignore them. He had this all planned out and their wisecracks weren't going to put him off. "Anyway, speaking of Kensi…"

"Who would have thought she could cook?" Callen suggested and took another sip of wine and then nearly spilled it all down his shirt as Nell smacked him on the back of the head.

"Will you shut up?" She had a feeling about what was about to happen and there was no way she about to let the dynamic duo ruin things with their wisecracks.

"Kensi – you're the thing I'm thankful for. I'm thankful every single day that I wake up and you're beside me. I'm so thankful that you're in my life. You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I still can't quite believe it." He raised his glass in a silent toast.

Nell clutched her napkin tightly as she watched the way Marty looked across the table, and the way Kensi's eyes never left his face. _Oh my God. He's going to do it. He's really going to do it._

"I love you too," Kensi whispered. "I love you so much."

For once, even Sam and Callen had no quips or smart remarks to make as Marty walked around the table to take hold of her hand, raise it to his lips and then kneel down beside her. "Kensi – will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you marry me?"

* * *

><p><strong>Galveston<strong>

Seeing Jack after all these years hit Kensi like a blow to the stomach. It wasn't that she had any unresolved feelings towards him, because all the lingering doubts that had plagued her for so long had disappeared like smoke on the water when she had finally realised what a real partnership between a man and a woman was all about and could understand the emotional breadth and depth that had been singularly lacking with Jack. And of course, there was the small matter of the sex. The great, mind-blowing sex. That had certainly been absent with Jack. Sex was pretty much a chore with him, something to be endured not enjoyed. Everything she had become since she found Marty just counterpointed how shallow and unequal her time with Jack had been. But Kensi still had unanswered questions about why he had left so abruptly, why he could just walk out after all these years without a backwards glance. She had to know if he had ever loved her, or if all those years had been a lie. It still plagued her darkest moments that she could be so utterly inconsequential that Jack could simply leave without a word. And the instant she saw Jack, Kensi knew that if she was to go forward with Marty, then she had to finally be able to close the door on her past life with Jack so that she could be free for the future.

"We need to talk," she said, in a low voice, so quietly that Jack had to incline his head towards her. It was funny but in her memories he had been much taller, much more imposing. But then she'd given him power over her. "I need some answers and this time, don't even bother to try to sneak away." There was more than a hint of steel in her tones.

"It wasn't like that," he protested. "I needed some to be alone. I needed some space. I felt trapped."

"I don't give a shit about how you felt, Jack. I don't want to talk about you, because I don't care. I want to talk about me. And you're going to listen to what I have to say and then you're going watch me walk away. And be very sure that if I ever see you again, I'll walk straight past you without giving you a second glance." It would have been good to pull out her gun and ram it underneath his chin, giving Jack a small taste to the fear she'd endured for so long, not knowing if he was dead or alive, but Kensi resisted the temptation. "This time, we're doing things on my terms, not yours."

"You've changed." He almost sounded as if he was proud of her.

"You bet I've changed." Kensi signalled for a cab. "We're going to go for a little drive, Jack. And this is all going to be on my terms, because I don't play by your rules anymore."

"I don't know you anymore. You're like a different person." Jack genuinely looked surprised.

"You bet I'm different. I don't have to justify myself all the time, or worry every time I open my mouth that I'm saying the wrong thing. I don't have to live on a knife's edge all the time, worrying that if you do something stupid that it will be my fault." Kensi pushed him into the backseat of the cab and slammed the door shut. _Did he really think that I wouldn't have changed? That I would have been like Miss Havisham or something, perpetually mourning him for the rest of my life?_ It did not escape her comprehension that she had done just that for a long time by refusing to have a meaningful relationship, by not allowing anyone to get close to her. Until a certain cop with fair hair wandered into her life and turned everything upside down.

"I don't have to worry any more that if you kill yourself it'll be because I did or said something wrong. Because I'm not responsible for you. And I never was. Only you laid all that guilt on me and I couldn't see things clearly."

"Where to?" the driver asked in a decidedly uninterested tone of voice. This pair might be about to have the mother and father of all arguments judging by the fire in the broad's eyes, but at least they weren't so drunk they were going to throw up all over his cab. A little verbal aggravation was fine, as long as it wasn't accompanied by vomit.

Kensi stuffed a $100 bill in his hand. "Anywhere you fancy. Just drive around and then bring me back here afterwards." She leant back in the seat and regarded Jack curiously. "So – have you managed to take responsibility for yourself yet and stopped blaming all your inadequacies on someone or something else?" It felt so good to finally take charge, to be able to say all the things that had been festering for so long. Finally, she was going to be free. "Walked out on any more women who devoted years of their lives to looking after you?"

"You've got some mouth on you," the cab driver said admiringly, when Kensi finally drew breath. He regarded Jack in the rear view mirror. "And you walked out on her? Buddy, you need your head examined."

"Oh, we tried that," Kensi informed him. "I used to have to take him to see his shrink. Actually take him. Like I was his mother."

"I had PTSD. I couldn't do a lot of things."

"He was always able to go meet his buddies though. Isn't that strange? And he was always able to do the things he wanted to do. But you see – and it took me a long time to realise this – he used his illness to control me."

"I can't blame him. You're feisty."

"A real man wouldn't have a problem with that. But you weren't a real man, were you Jack? And, by the way – how's that PTSD working out for you? You seem to be doing pretty well – out on the town."

"I have my good days and my bad days."

"You know what – when we were together, I only had bad days. And I thought that was my fault. But it wasn't. It was nothing to do with me. Our life together was all about you and how you felt. And that was partly my fault, because I let you get away with it."

"She's got spirit," the driver commented. "And you don't try to break spirit."

"Thanks. Even if I think you did just compare me to a horse."

Jack looked at her as if she was a stranger, someone he was meeting for the first time. "You don't understand. You never did." She'd changed, he realised. She was no longer pliable, able to be bent to his will. _Maybe if she'd been like this, I might have stayed. But she had no fight left, not at the end. She was dull and defeated and that sapped all the energy out of me. She needed me to be ill. It was like living with an emotional vampire. But now, she's sparking with life, just like she was in the early days. Perhaps it's not too late?_

"Maybe I didn't understand. But I tried, Jack. I tried so hard. And it took me a long time to realise that you didn't love me – because if you had, then you would never have left me like that – left me not knowing if you were dead or alive. I really hope you get better and that you have a good life. But I'm glad you're not in my life any more."

"I could be. We could start again – start a new life. Together. Things would be different this time."

Kensi almost laughed, only it wasn't funny. Jack wasn't sick – he was just deluded. "In your dreams, Jack. That's the only place you're going to see me – in your dreams. Really – you did me a big favour, because you taught me to be picky and wait until just the right man came along. And he came. He came and he caught me when I didn't even know I was falling."

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me," Jack said sadly.

"You're probably right. And you threw it all away. There was a time when I would have taken you back in an instant, but that was a long time ago. I am so over you. And you're just as self-centred as ever. Like I said – you did me a favour when you walked out, because I got my life back and I also got the chance to get a new life. So this is goodbye, Jack. I hope one day you're as happy as I am."

Kensi watched as the bright lights beckoned her back and she searched the street for a familiar figure in well-worn jeans that hugged his butt. In vain she searched for a familiar head of fair hair. But there was no trace of Marty. Her heart sank as she realised she'd been so caught up in her own needs that she'd rushed off without a word of explanation – just as Jack had done. It seemed as if history was bound to repeat itself, in a never-ending circle of misery.

Jack saw the look of devastation on her face and couldn't resist getting in barb. It was pretty much overdue, he reckoned, after all the insults Kensi had slung at him. "Lover boy got tired of waiting? Don't tell me you made another bad choice, Kensi?"

He had always been able to get under her skin with a sarcastic comment, but in the past Kensi had subdued her feelings. This time was different. This time she pulled her hand into a fist, drew her arm back and then whacked him straight in the mouth. And it felt so good watching him reel back that she couldn't resist the temptation to hit him again.


	18. Chapter 18

It was a good punch; straight and true and this time it clipped him on the side of the jaw. It felt so good to finally be able to do something, to be able to act after all these years of inertia, to get some small measure of revenge. But it was enough. Kensi had done what she had set out to do and had put all her demons to rest at long last and now it was time to walk away and to find Marty and straighten things out with him. That was the most important thing. Besides which, Kensi could feel her knuckles starting to throb with pain. Just one parting remark, and she'd be out of here and Jack would be part of her past, not part of her life. She was just opening her mouth when someone grabbed her from behind, and pinioned both her elbows behind her back.

"Somebody call the cops!" a deep voice called and her body sagged in resignation. Great. This evening was going from bad to worse. What the hell was Marty going to think?

* * *

><p>It should have been raining, Marty thought as he pushed his way through the late night crowds. Wasn't it supposed to rain tears from heaven when something like this happened? It wasn't supposed to be mild and the streets certainly weren't supposed to be crowded with people out enjoying themselves. How come life was still going on perfectly normally when everything was all so fucked up? When things like this happened it was supposed to be raining, and he should have been walking along a deserted street. That was the way things happened in the movies after all and this felt as unreal as a movie. It felt as if the colour had completely drained out of his life, so that he was moving through a monochrome haze. Eventually, Marty found himself back at the hotel and he went up to their room, still with this vague hope that when he got there Kensi would be waiting for him, lying on the bed wearing only that hat and those boots and she would laugh and tell him that she would never leave him, that he was the only man she loved.<p>

But the room was dark and empty and Marty was alone. He lay on the bed, fully clothed and stared up at the ceiling, trying frantically to make some sense of things. Only he couldn't. Nothing made any sense. One minute they were happy and life was great and the next moment Kensi saw that bastard Jack and she was gone. Every so often he checked his cell, trying to kid himself that maybe she had called and he had maybe been asleep. Only he hadn't slept and Kensi hadn't called. She hadn't even bothered to send a text. Eventually, the grey light of dawn started to appear in the sky and Marty gave up any pretence of sleep. It was Saturday, he realised, so he could go back to LA and try to gather himself together over the weekend before he had to face everyone on Monday. He had two days in which to work out how he was going to cope with this, how he was going to go on. And he could do this. What other choice did he have?

It didn't take long to pack, but then Marty wasn't exactly bothered about folding things neatly. He pretty much just threw things in randomly, and chucked Kensi's things into her bag at the same time. When he was finally finished, he coiled the bull-whip up neatly and left it on top of a note he'd scrawled for her.

"_Sorry it had to end like this. No regrets, because it was fun while it lasted."_

He could do this. It wasn't actually the end of the world, even if it felt like this. In a week, or a month or even a year it wouldn't hurt quite as much. He could move on, of course he could, even if he didn't want to. After all, what choice did he have? Maybe he shouldn't have pushed quite so hard? Maybe he should have accepted that Kensi coming over to his apartment one night didn't mean anything except two lonely people reaching out for one another? But then, Marty realised, he wouldn't have had the best few months of his life. In the end, everyone left and that was just the way it was. So now he had a choice – he could let things crumple around him and just give up, or he could do what he had always done, which was to stick out his chin and wave his fist at the fates that thought it was such great fun to fuck up his life and then he could go on as if nothing had happened. This was just one more door that had been shut in his face, and Marty was used to that. The trick was not letting anyone see how much it hurt to be shut out. And he had that honed to a fine art. You never let people see how much they had hurt you. He' learnt that lesson a long, long time ago. You kept things light, you didn't get involved – that was how you survived. How come he'd been so stupid to let her in, to think that things would be different this time?

Shutting the door to the hotel room was like walking out of a darkened movie theatre back out into the blazing sunshine of reality. All the illusions were revealed for what they were – mere smoke and mirrors. Real life was nasty and brutal and some days it just went on for far too damned long, creeping on in a petty pace that threatened to smash you into the ground and throw dirt on top of you. For a moment there, for a few glorious months, Marty had really thought his luck had changed. Which just showed how deluded he could be. But he could do this. He was still young, he was free and there was still the option of going back to LAPD. Even more tempting was the prospect of throwing in the towel , handing in his resignation and taking off for somewhere far away, somewhere that nobody knew him and he could start again. He had lots of options. Life could be whatever he wanted. The only problem was that he wanted Kensi in his life. But 'I want never gets'.

* * *

><p><strong>Their First Thanksgiving<strong>

"Will you marry me?" Marty asked, looking up expectantly, and Hetty felt her eyes prick with tears. Of all the hopelessly romantic gestures, this was the crowning glory. A public declaration of love, the wish to be with another person for the rest of your lives, to share your destiny together. She found she was holding her breath as Kensi gazed down at him in amazement.

Nell found that she was holding onto her thumbs for luck. "Say yes," she whispered under her breath. "What are you waiting for?"

"I don't think she can speak right now," Callen said in an undertone. Nell felt his fingers take hold of her own and give an encouraging squeeze. "And don't you spoil everything by crying, you hear me?"

"Marry you?" Kensi thought her voice sounded peculiar, rather far-away and almost as if it belonged to someone else. It had probably been a mistake to drink a whole bottle of wine during the cooking, she thought, because her head was spinning and she was surely hearing things. "You're asking me to marry you?" This couldn't be happening – could it? This sort of thing only happened in films, because real men didn't put their emotions right there on the line for everyone to see.

"I want us to be together – really together. I can't imagine life without you." Marty gave her an anxious look. "So will you, Kensi? Will you marry me?"

"Oh yes. Yes please." Kensi reached forward and put her hands on either side of his face, his dear, beloved, worried face and kissed him. And as they kissed, there was a round of applause ringing in their ears.


	19. Chapter 19

"You're crying," Callen said softly and handed Nell his napkin. "Why are you crying? This is supposed to be a happy time." _Deeks is smooth, I have to give him that. _

"I'm crying because I'm happy, you stupid man." Nell dabbed at her eyes. "That was the most romantic thing I've ever seen."

"Really?" Callen was genuinely interested. Maybe he could pick up some pointers here, find out why none of his relationships ever seemed to last terribly wrong.

"A public declaration of love like that? Come on, that's totally putting yourself out there. What woman isn't going to be blown away by that?"

"Shouldn't he have got a ring?" That was what they did in the movies, wasn't it? The guy always had this diamond solitaire ring in a box. Either that or he dropped it into a glass of champagne. Which had always seemed a bit risky to Callen. Supposing she swallowed it? That would kind of ruin the romance – a quick trip to the ER to make sure it wasn't going to obstruct your intestines, and then playing the waiting game for a few days. And supposing she said no – what happened then? Could you still get a refund on the ring? Would the jeweller be able to tell where it had been? Either way, that kind of thing would definitely take the shine off the romance – if not the ring itself. And very possibly both.

"You really don't know much about women, do you?" she asked curiously. "Listen, you're talking about a ring that Kensi's going to wear for the rest of her life. Now, don't you think that it would be nice for them to choose it together – one that she likes and that Deeks can afford? Unless you're a millionaire and can afford one of those huge diamonds, because there isn't a woman alive who would like one of those on her ring finger. And if she says otherwise, she's lying. Believe me on that."

Callen felt as if he should be taking notes. Maybe he ought to hang out with Nell a bit more? "Oh, I believe you, Nell," he said fervently, thinking that she could be the answer to all his prayers.

* * *

><p>"Did you plan that or what?" Kensi lay on her side, staring at Marty and running her fingers through his hair.<p>

"I planned it – sort of. I've been thinking about it for a couple of weeks now." He smiled and then took hold of her hand. "Just had to find the courage."

"You thought I'd say no or something?" She couldn't keep the note of incredulity out of her voice. "After all we've been through?"

"Guess I never thought I'd find someone who'd be prepared to take me on." He turned over and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I never thought anyone could get to know me and still stay in love with me." _I've thought anyone would actually love me and want to be with me._

"Are you completely mad? Why wouldn't I love you? You're smart and you're funny and you're damned good at what you do. And I'd trust you with my life." _What happened that you hurt so much, Marty? Can't you trust me enough to tell me._

"And I'm completely screwed up, Kensi. Take my big mouth – I open it and I just can't help myself. I say these things and I know they're going to piss people off. I wasn't exactly poster-boy at LAPD."

"But you had a great arrest record. You were a really good cop. So why do you try to sabotage it all?"

"I dunno. Defence mechanism, I guess. Bad habit, maybe. Listen – can we not talk about the past right now? Can we talk about tomorrow and the fact Hetty gave us a day off to go shopping for a ring?"

"I'm always ready to talk about shopping. But one day, you're going to tell me about your past, okay?" _Tell me about those demons, Marty – share them with me. There's nothing you can say or do that would push me away. So just accept the fact you're stuck with me, come what may._

"Yeah, one day." _One day, when I'm old and grey. Until then, I think I'll keep my secrets still._

* * *

><p><strong>Galveston<strong>

"You're absolutely sure?" The desk sergeant looked at the man curiously. "She did a pretty good ob on you but you don't want to press charges? You do know what that means?"

"I know exactly what that means," Jack said. "And she only hit me twice."

"She made them both count though, didn't she?" James Feeney shook his head in wonder as he looked at the swollen lips and obviously broken nose. The guy would have a couple of black eyes in the next few hours if he was any judge of things.

"Maybe she had her reasons? Anyway, I don't want to press charges – but I do want to get out of town before you release her. Any chance you can arrange that?" _Come on buddy, a couple of hours is all I need. Do me a favour here, seeing as how I'm saving you all that paper work._

"I don't know." Sergeant Feeney had a nasty suspicion he was being played here, but he couldn't actually see what the catch was. "We can still hold her for a while longer, just while we complete our enquiries – I suppose." What was the harm in that?

"Great. I'll be well on the way home by then."

The arrest record showed the victim lived in Florida. "You're kind of a long way from home."

"I was visiting an old friend. And I ran into another old friend last night, only she wasn't too pleased to see me." Jack gestured to his face. "And now I'd kind of like to get home and speak to my wife before someone calls her." _Come on, don't let me down here. I'm putting this to you, man to man. Just give me a break._

"You'd better drive carefully then – you don't want any more injuries." Feeney put the papers to one side. "You'll be halfway there before we release her. Don't worry."

Jack was smiling as he left the police station. A quick detour via the airport and then he'd be back on the road again, going wherever he fancied. But first of all, he wanted a little chat with Kensi's new lover. After all, they had a lot in common and he was sure they'd have a lot to talk about.

* * *

><p>"Marty?" She'd run all the way from the cab, pushing past people in her rush to get to the room. It had been over 16 hours since she'd last seen him standing there on that street and Kensi had been going more frantic as each hour passed. She seemed to have been kept in the holding cell for eternity, and when she was finally allowed to make her call, Marty's cell was switched off. And he never switched his cell off. Not unless they were on an op, and everything had already been wrapped up tighter than one of Sam's muscle shirts before they went out on the town. So that meant something was very wrong.<p>

The empty room confirmed her worst suspicions. Her bag was sitting on the bed, and all her belongings were crammed into it haphazardly. That was the first sign. Marty folded clothes; he folded them so neatly he could walk into a job in Banana Republic any time he fancied. The bull whip sitting on top of the bag was the next clue and the note was the final straw.

"_Sorry it had to end like this. No regrets, because it was fun while it lasted."_

She inhaled slowly, trying to push back the tears and the anger. "What do you mean 'it had to end like this'? Did I say it was over? What give you the right to say it's over without even asking me how I feel about things? This is supposed to be a partnership – and you don't just walk out on your partner. You don't just walk out on your wife, damn you. How could you do this to me, you stupid, selfish bastard?"

Kensi sat down on the edge of the bed, buried her face in her hands and tried to think what the hell she could do next.

"It's not over. No way is it over. If you think it's over, then you don't know me at all. Don't you know that love is supposed to be unconditional? That you love the other person – come what may? No matter what?" She slammed her fist down on the bed. "You walked away from me, Marty - just like Jack. When I need you most – you're not here. How could you do this to me?" The tears started to fall then as Kensi realised how one small mistake on her part had suddenly been magnified into something huge, something that threatened everything she believed in, everything that comprised her life.

Eventually, she stopped crying enough to throw the bag onto the floor, where half the contents fell out in an untidy heap, and curled up on top of the covers and tried to work the hell she was going to do. But no great plans came to mind. She didn't even have a Plan A, far less a Plan B. All Kensi had was a life that had imploded, a great pair of boots and a stupid bullwhip. It was a less than impressive total. But at least she didn't have a criminal record. So that was one thing to be thankful for. One single, solitary thing.


	20. Chapter 20

It was evening by the time Kensi finally got back to LA. She'd arrived at the airport first thing in the morning to find it on storm alert, with all planes grounded until weather conditions improved. So that meant hours spent walking around the terminal, staring in shop windows without really seeing a thing and drinking so much coffee that her nerves were positively jangling. And of course she'd forgotten to charge her cell phone, which had run out of battery, so there was no way of getting in touch with Marty. Some days it seemed like all the fates had joined forces to make her life as miserable as possible. But she was on her way home now, and she'd finally managed to draw a line under the chapter of accidents called Jack and now she could finally move on without ever having to look over her shoulder again. All Kensi had to do was to sit and wait patiently until the winds died down and she could get on that plane and then she would be back where she belonged: back in LA and back in Marty's arms. And then everything would be alright.

Standing outside their apartment block, she looked up and saw the small twinkling lights that ran along the wall of the terrace making a brave show against the darkening sky. And she was just able to make out a shadowy figure moving around. So he was home. Kensi had spent pretty much the entire flight wondering if Marty had come back to LA or if he'd slipped off the radar somewhere. She wasn't quite sure if she would have entirely blamed him if he'd done the latter. But he was home and she was home and it was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright, because Jack had messed up her life once already and he wasn't about to do it again. It had been maddening, not being able to contact him by cell, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Marty was going to be kind of pissed off with her. But although he could sulk and pout with a pro, at least he didn't hold a grudge. And the make-up sex was always great. Strangely, it wasn't sex that was on her mind as she starte to sprint up the stairs, it was an overwhelming need just to be with him, to feel the familiar comfort of his arms around her, to be able to inhale his individual scent. Kensi knew that she could have been blind-folded and still able to find Marty by that clean aroma that somehow managed to mix sun, salt and lemon with an underlying musk in a heady combination that made her knees feel unaccountably weak.

So this was what love felt like. It was about missing someone so much that it hurt; it was about having all these sensory memories that hammered at your mind and made your body tense up; it was about simply needing someone in your life so that the possibility of life continuing with them in it was not to be contemplated. This was love an love was Marty and that was all there was to it. Kensi was aware that she had never wanted anyone so much in her life; that she had never needed anyone quite so much and probably never would. It was strange, but she wanted him more than she needed him, but of course, she needed Marty for all time. Eternity was not going to be long enough.

"I'm back!" Kensi rushed in through their door, breathless from taking the stairs two at a time. "Marty?" There was no reply. "Marty?" She raised her voice and went through to the bedroom, where the window was wide open.

"You came back." He was sitting out on the terrace, lounging in one of the chairs, with his legs sprawled out in front of him and a beer bottle dangling from one hand. Marty's head was back and he was staring up at the dark night sky and he scarcely even looked in her direction.

"Of course I came back." Dragging a chair over, Kensi sat down and stared at him. "This is where I live. This is where my life is. What did you think – that I was going to stay or something?" She reached out imploringly, but Marty ignored the gesture. All her dreams of a great romantic reunion disappeared like a star imploding in upon itself and her mouth was suddenly dry, with a taste of ashes.

_I thought you were gone. I thought you'd gone away with Jack. Like I told you, I never thought anyone would actually want to stick with me for the long haul._ "I didn't know what to think. I still don't." His voice was flat and utterly without expression. And then Marty turned his head and looked at her. "Hey – here's an idea - why don't you tell me what I should think?"

She'd seen him annoyed before, she'd even seen him pushed right up to the edge, pushed so far that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, but Kensi had never seen cold fury burning in his eyes before and it was like being faced by a complete stranger. "Don't be like that. It wasn't like that."

"Really?" Marty took a long pull of beer and tried very hard not to think of Jack standing their smirking at him in the airport, and trying to taunt him. "The way I remember things, Jack turned up and you ran off with him." He reached down and picked up a cigarette, inhaling deeply so that the tip burned fiercely red in the darkness. "You just went off without saying a word. So why don't you tell me 'what it was like', Kensi?"

It seemed wise to ignore that. "Why are you smoking? You don't smoke."

"Clearly, sometimes I do. And it's not exactly a cigarette." He took another satisfying drag and then let his head flop back to look back up at the sky, as if he was seeking for answers that only the universe could provide.

Kensi had just lived through one of the worst days in her life; she'd come back to LA ready to make amends, to do whatever was necessary and here she was faced with a sulky husband, who was drinking beer and getting high and who seemed determined to argue with her. It was just what she didn't need. "Listen, I'm sorry." _Can you just hold me and tell me you love me and then make love to me?_

"You're sorry? Good. That makes two of us. I'm sorry we're in this mess. I'm sorry Jack turned up. And I'm sorry you went off with him. Now, how about you tell me what you're sorry about?" he invited sarcastically _What the hell happened, Kensi? Why did you go off with him and leave me hanging around? It's been nearly two whole days and I've been out of my mind. I even had to call Eric and score some grass off him._

That was it. That was the proverbial flame that lit the blue touch-paper. "Right now I'm sorry I even bothered coming back." She regretted the words the instant they were spoken and they hung in the air between them.

"That makes two of us." He stared at her and the silence stretched interminably.

"This is ridiculous." Kensi had never met such an aggravating man in her life. Aggravating and stubborn and hurting so damned much he was determined not to let her anywhere near him.

"Uh huh." Marty inhaled again, holding the smoke down in his lungs for as long as possible.

"You're being childish. You're sulking. And you're making this really hard for me."

"Good." He drank down the last of the beer and took another drag of the joint. "It's not exactly been a meander through the marigolds for me either. Do you know how long it was before you bothered to call me? Eighteen hours. Eighteen bloody long hours when you couldn't even be bothered pick up the phone."

"It wasn't like that." _And it wasn't as if your phone was even on._

"What was it like, then?"

Kensi gave it up as a bad job. She wasn't going to get anywhere, not with Marty in a mood like this. "This is ridiculous. There's no point in even trying to talk when you're in a mood like this. I'm exhausted and I'm going to bed."

"Fine."

They had argued before, many times. Only never like this. Usually their arguments were short and ended up with them making love. They had never spent a night lying on their separate sides of the bed, carefully not touching. The Berlin Wall was never quite so effective a barrier as the one they had managed to erect between them. Kensi lay with a tumult of thoughts tormenting her. She'd always been too impulsive – it had come up time and time again in her performance reviews. There was that time at the hospital, when she'd been so hell-bent on trying t solve the case all on her own that she'd refused to listen to either Marty or Sam. And that had ended up with Marty nearly killing himself to save her. But this was worse. She could see exactly how deeply she had hurt him, could see the corrosive poison dripping painfully into his soul and it was killing her. If only she had taken two seconds to think. If only she hadn't let her need to finally confront Jack override everything else. If only she'd just kept holding on to Marty, then maybe she wouldn't have to think about letting him go. There was no way they could go on like this – they were behaving like complete strangers. No, it was worse than that – they were behaving like enemies.

The buzz from the grass was long gone and it was getting harder for Marty to block out the memory of Jack's taunts:

"_Kensi's good, isn't she?" He'd been standing in line at the airport when his nemesis had materialised right at his elbow._

"_In your dreams. Only in your dreams." Marty had stared ahead, refusing to make eye-contact with the creep._

"_Are you so sure? Look around – here you are – and where's Kensi?"_

_That hit home – it hit home hard. "She's not with you either."_

"_But she was. Oh, she was with me. It was me she ran to. Or, put another way – she ran away from you."_

_Somehow, Marty had forced a grin onto his face. "You're pathetic. I trust Kensi. I trust her with my life." But could he trust her with his heart?_

"_But she's never going to forget me. She wanted to try again, but I said no. I'd moved on."_

_That was when Marty had known Jack was lying. Because nobody could ever get over Kensi. It just wasn't possible. The woman occupied his mind even when they were apart and when they were together, it was as if his mind was going to blow apart with the sheer joy of just being together. _

And now, here they were, lying with a whole mountain of secrets and lies between them. He'd thought they started to build towards a future, but it hadn't taken much to pull them apart. If only he didn't want her so much, it might be easier. But even then, Marty knew he would always need her. Kensi was in his heart and his soul and that was all there was to it.

* * *

><p><strong>Prague: Two Years Ago<strong>

"You're absolutely sure she's going to be alright?"

Callen rubbed his face wearily. "Do I have to go through it again?"

"Yes, you do," Marty informed him firmly. "Seeing as how you're the only one who speaks the language."

"Why don't you take night classes or something?"

"I'll go with the 'something' option, I think. 'Something' sounds better than night-classes. Pretty much anything sounds better than night classes. I can think of something we could do at night, Marty." Kensi smiled at the thoughts that were running through her head. "Actually, I can think of lots of things we can do – and not necessarily at night."

"Enough. I give up. Hetty came through the operation fine. The specialist those doctors in Romania recommended managed to repair all the damage to her kidney and they reckon she'll be almost as good as new in a few months. Only it was a big operation, she lost a lot of blood and of course, she's not as young as she used to be."

"That doesn't sound good." Sam found it hard to shake the memory of Hetty falling to the floor, or the bloodstain on her hand.

"It's about as good as it gets," Callen said firmly. He looked around the apartment, provided by the American Embassy and finally managed to locate the bedroom. "And I need to get to bed before I fall down."

"Where do you think you're going?" Sam asked as Marty went towards the door.

"To see Hetty," he replied simply. "I'm not leaving her all alone in a strange hospital, in a foreign country. She'd do the same for any of us."

"She already has. Remember?" Kensi was at his side.

"Of course I remember. That's why I'm not leaving her alone. Besides, who knows that there aren't more Commescu cousins just waiting to come out of the woodwork?"

"He's got a point, G." Sam looked across to where Callen was leaning against the wall in an attitude that suggested extreme exhaustion.

"Go on then. And don't let Kensi pinch her Jello."

"I'm not even sure they have Jello in Prague," Sam said.

"Then we'll get it sent over. You have to have Jello if you're sick. It's like a law." Kensi patted her pocket to make sure she had everything.

"It might be the law in America, but we're a long way from home." Marty held open the door for Kensi. "See you guys in the morning. And Sam – put Callen to bed before he falls asleep standing up. He's not as young as he used to be."


	21. Chapter 21

"You don't think they guessed, do you?" Kensi looked around the empty hallway nervously.

"Not a chance. Callen was dead on his feet and Sam wasn't a whole lot better. Anyway, why would they ever think of anything like this?"

It made sense, but Kensi was still concerned. The last thing either of them wanted was for other team members to find out what they were up to. And if that meant they had to go sneaking around Prague, then so be it. The Embassy was only a few hundred yards away, and they already had an appointment. And once all the paperwork was signed and stamped, they could be on their way to the hospital. There wasn't much time and they had so much to do. Red tape seemed to multiply when you were dealing with a foreign country. But they were nearly there now. Most of the pieces were in place and after they dropped off their statements and had them notarised, it was just a matter of waiting until the bomb dropped.

"I still don't like this sneaking around. It doesn't seem right." Kensi scanned the street and then kept a sharp lookout as Marty attempted to hail a taxi.

"Relax, will you? You're only going to draw attention to us." It was bad enough having to leave their guns behind, but the Czech officials had been insistent about that. Polite – but insistent. And given the amount of havoc the team had wreaked in Romania, the US wasn't exactly going to press that point. There had been some rather terse conversations with Director Vance about their 'precipitous' actions, but the man had come through in the end. He'd even managed to smooth things over with LAPD, insisting that Deeks had been acting on direct instructions. It was going to take some time to manage to repay that debt, Marty thought. Still, it showed just how persuasive Vance could be, when he put his mind to it. There surely wasn't a whole of need for an LAPD liaison officer to go to Romania, after all. Which meant that he owed the Director big time.

"It seemed the right thing to do." Kensi still felt uncomfortable. Maybe it was being in a strange country and not being able to speak the language, or maybe it was all the subterfuge. She'd never kept anything secret from Sam and Callen before. "At the time." _Were we a little bit mad? Maybe we should have waited till we got home and done things properly?_

"It still is the right thing. And it's too late now to change your mind." Marty resorted to sticking both index fingers in his mouth and whistling loudly as yet another taxi went past, resolutely ignoring him. "You don't really want to back out now, do you?" He looked at her anxiously. They were so far down the road now and there was no way he wanted to turn back – even if that was a possibility.

"Of course not. It's the right thing to do. You know that, I know that. I just don't like all this duplicity, that's all."

"It'll be worth it." It didn't exactly sit easily with Marty either, but sometimes you simply had to do what you had to do. But he still wasn't going to think about what Sam and Callen were going to say when they found out what had been going on behind their backs. Mind you, it wasn't difficult to work out roughly how the conversation would go. It was a fair bet there would be a bit of yelling, just for starters.

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

"Aren't you a bit old for that?" Callen nodded at the skateboard.

Marty sighed. Here he was, trying to clear his mind, trying to get away from things for just a few minutes and up popped Callen, like a bad fairy at a christening. "You're never too old to have fun. At least, I'm not." _Fuck off out of here and leave me alone._

"You don't look like you're having fun. You look miserable." It had got to the point where it was impossible to ignore, and eventually he and Sam had decided to do something. To do anything. Because someone had to do something. They couldn't sit back and watch their two best friends barely acknowledging one another and being icily professional. "Actually, you look like hell." _And that's being kind. _

"Thanks. Nothing like an ego boost. Have you ever thought of doing this professionally, Callen?"

"Stand-up comedy or running interference?" he asked curiously.

"Either. Here's some free advice – don't. Just don't. Alright?" The note of warning in his voice came through loud and clear and he wasn't giving job advice. _Don't go there, Callen. Don't even think about going there. Just get the hell away before I lose it._

It was too late to back down and there was too much at stake to even think about walking away with matters unresolved. "We can't just watch this happening, Deeks."

"Then look the other way. This isn't about you, Callen, so butt out."

Callen took a hold of the younger man's arm. "Of course it's about me. And it's about Sam too. We're a team and we need to know you're there for us."

Marty shrugged off his grip angrily, placed one foot on the end of the skateboard and pressed down, so that it bounced upwards and he could catch it neatly. "You think I'm a liability?" he asked. "You think I'm so unprofessional I don't have your back?" He held the board in front of him, almost like a shield.

This wasn't going quite the way Callen had planned it. Still, sometimes the best form of defence was offense. And he had nothing to lose right now, so he took full advantage of the situation and aimed a deliberately low blow. "But what about Kensi's back?"

"Always. In a heartbeat. Before anything. I just wish I could say that she felt the same."

It didn't take much to break through the anger, to strip away the resentment and reveal the vulnerability. The look of naked anguish on Deeks' face was something Callen would remember for a long time. "What the hell happened between you guys?" Callen knew this was why the PTB were so reluctant to let couples work together – because the fall-out was hell. He knew all about that from personal experience. He watched as Deeks' fingers tightened convulsively on that skateboard.

"I wish I knew. I thought we were rock-solid, and we were. Right up to that night in Galveston when Kensi went off with Jack."

"Shit." _No wonder you look like you want to fight with the whole world._

"Yup, Jack's a shit. The whole situation is shit. And I feel like shit. So, now you know, Callen. Are you happy now you've managed to find out just what a farce my life is? What a stupid, squalid farce it all is?"

"But she came back." It was grasping at straws, but that was what drowning men did. Callen could remember the first time they'd met Deeks, and the way Kensi had instantly been drawn to him, the look in her eyes and the way her voice had softened when she spoke about him. And then he watched as the relationship grew and developed right in front of his eyes. It had seemed inevitable that they would get together – it had not been so much a question of 'if', but 'when'. Having been an observer for so long, Callen felt like he had a personal stake in things. And this was affecting him more than he had ever thought possible, because if Kensi and Deeks couldn't make it, what chance did he have?

"Eventually. Two days later. And we had a row and now she won't talk about it." His head was hung low, and Marty rubbed the toe of his foot along the sidewalk.

"She will. Believe me, she will." There was no doubting either the sincerity or the certainty in Callen's voice.

Marty's head swung up and there was a look of horror in his eyes. "Don't tell me Sam's over at the apartment?" he pleaded

"Okay, I won't." Callen agreed. He just hoped his partner was having more luck than he was. "If that makes you happy."

"Shit." Clearly this was Deeks' word of the day. "You guys shouldn't have done that. You really shouldn't have done that."

* * *

><p>Okay - devious plot bunny is up to something in Prague. I can just tell he is. I wonder if he'll run into my Uncle Hans over there...<p>

And evil plot bunny might just be about to meet his match in Sam. I mean - would you want to defy Sam? nope, me neither. Hopefully, between them he and Callen will help our troubled twosome. If they'll let him.

So dear little slushy plot bunny might just make another appearance in the story - at some point. I can't say when, but I'm sure he will pop up sooner or later.

Hope you enjoy this latest installment and many thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing. I love the way you all hate Jack! Especially because he is modelled on my ex-husband...


	22. Chapter 22

Callen shrugged. "It's too late now."

That was exactly what Marty was afraid of. It was what had been going through his mind for the last few weeks and this morning had seemed to put the seal on things. What chance was there that Kensi would want to him stay around when she was having another man's baby? More particularly, when she was having Jack's baby. What possible reason could she have to want to stay with him? All of a sudden there seemed to be miles between them, miles behind them – but only an empty road ahead. There was simply too much distance to ever hope to cover. Everyone left in the end. Marty looked up and saw Callen was standing beside his car, with a sympathetic smile on his face. So why not go with him? Get it over with. What was the point in delaying the inevitable. It wasn't the end of the world: it just felt like it was.

_You can't run forever, Marty. Go back, find out and move on. Put those miles between you for real this time. Everything comes to an end. And I tried so hard. I tried so damned hard to make it work. And God, it was fun while it lasted. It was so much damned fun I thought my heart would burst. Because you were the one, Kensi. You were the one I'd been searching for; the one I thought I'd never find; the one person who makes some sense of this whole fucked-up world. I still love you, Kensi. I don't think I'll ever stop loving you. But if one of us has to go, then maybe it should it be me, so that you can get on with your life – you and Jack and your baby. That's the least thing I can do. It's not the kid's fault after all. If I go, maybe at least your kid can be happy._

* * *

><p>"Well?" Sam said, holding Kensi's gaze.<p>

"I'm very well, thank you."

"You don't look well. And neither does Deeks. You want to talk about it?"

"No, thank you." The last thing Kensi had needed was Sam turning up right now. Not when Marty had just walked out. And that was poetic justice, although before now she had never comprehended how horrible that was, how it made you feel as if you had been punched in the stomach, as if you were in an elevator that had started to fall down the shaft and you just had to hang on for dear life, knowing there was nothing that could stop the headlong plummet. Only time would bring things to an end, and it was a fair bet that end was going to be very, very messy indeed. And Kensi really didn't want anyone else around to witness the dying embers of their relationship burst briefly back into flame as she and Marty fought things out for the last time.

"Too bad." Sam sat down on the sofa, planted both feet firmly on the ground and crossed his arms. "Because I do. Things can't go on like this, Kensi. It's affecting all of us. You must see that."

"I can see that it's none of your business. And anyway, it's over. You don't have to worry about the precious team anymore."

"I'm worried about you. And I'm worried about Deeks. You're my friends."

"What, are you worried that we're going to make you choose sides or something?" Yes, she was being childish, but so what?

"If you're trying to hurt me, it's not working. I'm not Deeks. Come on – tell me about it," he pleaded. "Maybe it might help? You've been bottling this up for so long it's like you're about to explode. And I'm a big boy – I can take it."

She thought maybe she could trust him. "It all happened in Galveston," she said slowly. "On a busy street, on a hot summer night. And I looked up and I saw Jack and something seemed to snap inside my head. I couldn't think of anything else except how much he'd hurt me and how much I needed to tell him that he'd actually done me the biggest favour, because now I had Marty. Only it all kind of went wrong. Actually, it went completely wrong and now Marty thinks I went off with Jack and he hates me and it just got even worse." She wasn't going to cry, not in front of Sam.

"How much worse?" Sam wasn't going to comment on what she'd told him, not until he'd heard the whole story.

"Like' I'm pregnant' worse?" Kensi ventured. "And Marty thinks it's Jack's baby."

Okay, the situation had just gone nuclear. This was so much worse than either he or G had ever even contemplated. "And is it?" Sam asked feebly. _Get me out of here. Get me out of here, right now. I am a man. I do not do scenes like this. And G, I am going to kill you for making me come here. So start running right now, partner._

* * *

><p><strong>Prague<strong>

"Hi Hetty." Kensi stood at the door of the private hospital room and looked at her boss. "We've come to visit you." She seemed reluctant to move any further; it almost seemed like an intrusion, somehow. Seeing Hetty lying in a bed, wearing a hospital gown and without her glasses just seemed so utterly wrong.

"She's on the scrounge for Jello."Marty put his hand in the small of her back and pushed her forwards.

"I think she's asleep," Kensi whispered.

"I'm not sleeping." Hetty's eyes flickered open. "I'm just resting my eyes." She made no attempt to get up, but just lay there in the bed, almost completely flat on her back, blinking and trying to focus.

Kensi went over to the bedside locker and picked up the spectacles, noting how her face seemed strangely naked and more vulnerable without them. "Here. Let me help you." She bent over and slipped them onto Hetty's face.

"Thank you." Her voice sounded hoarse, almost rusty. "Thank you – for everything."

"Yeah, well." Marty shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"You knew we'd come after you." Kensi stood at the side of the bed and looked stern. "You knew, didn't you?"

"I might have had my suspicions. I rather hoped you might follow me."

"So why didn't you just ask us?" Marty said.

"I did ask you to reconsider your refusal to join NCIS, Marty."

"And of course I didn't realise that was code for 'I'm going off to Prague on a death or glory mission'. Silly me. Remind me which NCIS-approved course they teach mind-reading on, will you? 'Cos I'm signing up for that one when we get back." He pulled up a chair and sat down. "So – if it was some kind of test – did I pass?" It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd called him Marty.

"You all passed. Just as I hoped you would. I had to know who I could trust, you see." Hetty's voice was growing noticeably weaker, as if the mere effort of talking was exhausting her and Marty remembered how wearying those first few days after surgery felt.

"How about you just lie there for a bit, and I'll read to you?" He pulled a book out of his jacket pocket and settled himself comfortably. "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times…"

"Are you trying to tell me something, Marty?" Kensi smiled at the indignant tremor in Hetty's tone.

"Would I dare? It just seemed rather apt, given we're from LA and we're here in Prague."

"Cheeky bugger."

A little of the quintessential Hetty-snap was definitely present in that phrase, Marty thought as he continued reading. The sound of his voice was oddly comforting, Hetty thought, as she drifted off.

Kensi waited until she was absolutely certain that Hetty was asleep. "She's cunning, isn't she?" There was a note of admiration in her voice.

"Maybe. But it's kind of sad too. That she didn't actually know we'd come. She hoped we would - but she didn't know. We all need somebody – but what if we're all Hetty's got?" _Supposing we hadn't come? Or supposing we were too late? What would have happened then?_

"But we did come." Kensi stood behind him and draped her arms around his neck. "And you and I – we'll always be here for each other, won't we?" After all the uncertainty of Romania, she needed to know that more than ever.

"Sure we will." Marty took her hand, dropped a kiss into the palm and folded her finger down over it, holding it safe and secure. "Always and forever."

* * *

><p>The next few days passed in a similar fashion, with visits to the hospital to see Hetty making gradual progress interspersed with trips to make statements to US and Romanian officials and a rather uncomfortable interview with the Ambassador and the US Naval attaché. They'd had to go and buy suits for that particular pleasure, at Hetty's insistence. She'd even given them her credit card just to make certain there were no excuses about not having sufficient funds.<p>

"That was fun – not." Callen jerked his tie undone.

"They were only doing their job," Sam reminded him.

"As in 'it's more than my job's worth not to tear you off a strip'?" Kensi suggested. "And he's actually quite a nice man."

"And you would know that how, precisely?" He caught sight of the looks they were exchanging. "Okay – something's up."

"We kind of asked for his help," Marty said reluctantly. "After Romania and all that happened there, well we kind of got to thinking."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Callen said wearily.

Kensi shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but Sam could see through the pretence to the shimmering excitement underneath. He looked across to Deeks, who was beaming from ear to ear like some kind of goofy idiot. "Don't tell me…? You haven't, have you?"

"Not yet. Tomorrow morning."

Callen watched as his team enveloped in a group hug and wondered what he was missing. "You want to let me in on this?" _Maybe it was something in the Czech water? Maybe the strain had started to get to them?_

"We're getting married." Kensi held out her hands to him.

"You're kidding me." Sure, Kensi and Deeks had seemed like a sure bet right from the start, as if they were predestined for each other, but getting married? That was one hell of a commitment. How could they be sure? How on earth could they be so sure that they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives? His own marriage, well that had been less to do with romance and more to do with expediency, more particularly, it was necessary for a cover-story. And that experience had burned his fingers so badly he'd never been tempted again.

"No kidding. Not about this. This is it, Callen. The real thing." Deeks was looking at him and Callen could see the younger man had no doubts at all. The absolute certainty shone out of his gaze.

"Congratulations." Sure, he meant it, of course he did, but there was a small part of Callen that was envious, that actively resented the happiness these two had found together. How come they made loving look so easy? And why couldn't he find that kind of love himself? Callen shook hands with Deeks and then patted him on the back before kissing Kensi, and all the while he was wondering why love was so elusive. There had been a time, not that long ago, when he'd thought he might have found the right girl. She was funny and smart and pretty much fearless. But then Deeks had come sauntering in and Kensi had fallen hard. Besides which, Callen knew she had never had the slightest romantic notion towards him, but a guy could dream, couldn't he? Only it was hard, watching them every day and wishing he was in Deeks' shoes. And the worst thing was, he could never talk about it, not even with Sam.

"Hell of a romantic thing to do," Sam said admiringly, seeing the far-away look in his partner's eyes. He was pretty sure this was hitting G hard. The man had devoted so much of his energies into digging out the past, when he should have been looking to build a future.

"Romania – and everything that happened there – made me look at things differently." There had been so much death, so much killing. Something good had to come out of it, in order for it to make sense. Kensi moved closer to Callen. "Won't you please be happy for us?"

He forced a smile onto his face. "Of course I'm happy for you." And he was, he really was. There was only thing wrong: Callen wished it was him. But some things could never be, and this was one of them. Sure, he'd had his dreams, but Kensi had dreamed a different dream, with a different boy.

* * *

><p><em>next chapter will see the long-awaited and long-overdue confrontation between Kensi and Deeks!<em>


	23. Chapter 23

**The Present**

The first thing Marty noticed when he pulled into the drive was that the bedroom curtains were still drawn, so he let himself into the house as quietly as possible and even managed to avoid the sixth riser on the stairs that had a nasty habit of squeaking whenever you stood on it. Peering through the gloom, he could see that Kensi was lying on her side, breathing slowly and deeply, and it didn't look as if she had got up at all that day. His heart contracted painfully at that realisation. The sparky, full-of-energy, ready-for-anything Kensi he'd fallen in love with seemed to have disappeared.

"Hey there." Marty drew one finger softly down her cheek and Kensi's eyes flickered open.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily.

"Just after six."

"Oh God. I didn't mean to sleep this long." She gave him a frustrated look. "I seem to do nothing but sleep and pee these days."

"Maybe it's your body getting you ready for all these broken nights you're going to be having once the baby's born?"

At last there was a flicker of the old Kensi. "What do you mean 'I'm going to be having' broken nights?" she demanded. "Because you're going to be having them right alongside me."

"I need my sleep," he protested.

"So do I. And I'm the one growing this baby."

"And I'm the one who's going to be going to work in the morning."

"While I'll be swanning around, meeting the girls and shopping, I suppose?" Kensi heaved herself up on to the pillows and glared at him. "Looking after a baby is hard work. It's all day, every day work."

"I was only joking." Marty was quite alarmed to see how red her face was getting and remembered all the doctor's warnings about high blood pressure. _Nice one, Marty. Your wife is in the final stages of pregnancy and you act like it's a joke? Great idea._

"Well it wasn't funny!" Kensi yelled and then immediately looked ashamed. "It's really not funny. I don't know if I can do this." _What do I do if the baby won't stop crying and you're not here? What if the baby doesn't like me? What if I don't love the baby? _

_Now you tell me. Great timing._ "Neither do I. But we've not got much choice, do we? It's too late now." He gave her a soulful look.

"That's not exactly reassuring." _Why did I ever think I was ready to be a mother – because I'm not. And I'm so frightened. Everything is out of control and all I can do is sleep. _

"Sorry – it's the best I can do right now. Oh come on, Kensi – it'll be fine. It's just like before we go out on an op – it's just nerves, that's all. We'll be fine and the baby will be fine." _Maybe if I say it enough times I might believe it. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in this cold sweat._

"I'd rather face a dozen drug dealers armed up to their back teeth," she said glumly. _I'm not ready for this. And I'm so scared. I don't know what's going to happen, not with me, not with us – not with anything._

"How about I go fix us some dinner?" At least that way he could actually be doing something positive, rather than sitting here and indulging in this gloom-fest. And she had to eat. It wasn't like Kensi not to be grazing on junk food all the time. Marty was beginning to get seriously worried about her. _You've got to let me look after you, Kensi – you and the baby._

"Sure. Why not?" _You can't wait to get away from me, can you? And I really don't blame you. I wish I could get away from me too._

* * *

><p><strong>Nine Months Ago<strong>

"Is it Jack's baby?" Sam asked again, wondering what had happened to turn his life so upside down that he was now starring in some chick-flick.

"Come on, Kensi. Why don't you answer the man?" Marty said laconically, leaning against the door jamb. Callen just raised his hands helplessly, wondering if their timing could possibly have been any worse.

Kensi glared at him. "How can you ask me that?"

"It's not difficult – I just kind of open my mouth and the words come out."

"That's not funny."

"No, it isn't. It isn't funny at all. And I'm miserable." He glared at her, hurt and anger in equal proportions.

"So join the club," Kensi retorted.

Sam and Callen did not want to join the club. They wanted to get the hell out of Dodge while they still could. Only Deeks was standing in the doorway like some bloody statue and blocking their retreat.

"You're going to have to tell him some time, Kensi."

"Who asked you to butt in, G?" she spat.

"Someone has to. It's either that or Sam here knocks your heads together." Callen pulled at Deeks' elbow. "Come and sit down." He had to virtually drag him over to the sofa and plonk him down firmly. For one awful moment, Callen actually thought he was going to have to sit on Deeks, and then all the resistance drained away and he just seemed to crumple inwardly, which was worse. It was like he'd just given up and that was so not Deeks. Deeks never gave up, even when things looked blackest, he just carried on regardless. Except now, and that scared Callen.

"Okay - you want to know what happened, Marty? You really want to know?"Kensi had been pushed beyond the limits of endurance after days and nights of castigating herself for her stupidity and right now she couldn't take any more. She just wanted it all to end – all this vituperative bitterness, the sniping and trying to hurt each other.

"I need to know," Marty confirmed and all the anger seemed to dissipate like dew in summer. "I just don't know if I want to, that's all." _How come we're suddenly like strangers, Kensi? Where did it all go – all that love we once shared?_

"You need to know? You really need to ask me if I slept with Jack? What kind of idiot are you?" Her eyes were huge and bright with tears. "Why do you even have to ask me, Marty?" _Don't you know? How can you not know?_

"Because I could never quite believe you could love me as much as I love you?" he ventured in an undertone and Callen and Sam decided to make a strategic withdrawal.

"Love you? I adore you." Kensi looked at him, saw all the pain and felt it magnified a hundred times

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you, it was just that…" The words were choking him. "Just that I never thought I was good enough for you. So when you went off with Jack… it kind of made sense that you'd go back to him."

"I told him about you," Kensi said quickly, realising she couldn't bear it if he cried. She could cope with sarcasm and anger – but not with the raw, visceral pain or the knowledge that she was the cause, however unwittingly. "I told Jack how miserable he'd made me and what a favour he'd done me by walking out, because now I had you. And how I was happy, really happy, because you were the right man for me. The only man for me. And then I hit him."

Marty couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You did what?"

"I hit him." Kensi smiled at the memory. "And then I hit him again, for good measure. And just because I could. I reckon I would have got away with it if I'd only hit him once, but it felt so good that I had to do it again. And that was when I got arrested."

"You got arrested? That's what happened?" He felt like such a fool. "Tell me you hit him hard?"

"Both times. I broke his nose, blackened both his eyes and possibly knocked out a molar. And then they stuck me in a holding cell for hours before finally letting me go." _But I broke your heart, and that's worse. How can you ever forgive me?_

"I've been so fucking stupid, Kensi." _Why didn't I just give you a chance? How can you ever trust me again?_

"Not as stupid as me. And why can't you see how much I love you? I love you for who you are and for what you are. I guess I just love everything about you." A single tear spilt from her eye and she wiped it away, only for it to be replaced by another and then another and then she was in his arms again and it felt so good that it made her cry even more.

"I'm so sorry, Kensi. So sorry. And I love you so much it just feels like it's going to tear me apart." And now Marty was crying too, crying in her arms and resting his head against hers, feeling the sensation of holding her close and breathing in her scent.

"Don't cry. I can't bear it if you cry." Kensi cupped her hands around his face and stared into his eyes. "Believe that I love you. Believe that I have never loved anyone like I love you." She traced the line of his jaw with her finger, let her hand graze across the soft, golden, stubble and then bent forward and kissed him, slow and deep, with a pent up yearning that was barely restrained. Marty groaned as her tongue slipped into his mouth and responded instantly, craving this more than anything. His fingers eased slowly down her spine, feeling each individual vertebra, and then slipped inside the waistband of her jeans.

"Do you know how much I want you, want you right now?" Kensi let herself ease slowly down onto the couch.

"Maybe almost as much as I need you?" Marty was starting to unbutton her blouse at the same time as she was working his belt loose.

Sometimes lovemaking is touched with a yearning sweetness, a gentle melancholy that develops into something so powerful it feels as if the world is about to burst into being afresh. Sometimes making love is all about the heart, about giving and sharing and simply being as one.

* * *

><p>Callen and Sam sat in a bar down the street, staring into their glasses of beer.<p>

"Reckon it's safe to go back yet?"

Sam checked his watch and then shook his head. "Probably not. Either they're going to be basking in the afterglow of a marathon session, and possibly revving up for another bout, or Kensi's cleaning up and disposing of the evidence."

"I vote for option one. Mainly because Kensi's rotten at cleaning, so she'd just call one of the specialist companies." It was easier to make bad jokes than to think about Kensi and Deeks splitting up. Sometimes you just needed a constant in your life – even if it was someone else's constant. If Kensi and Deeks couldn't make it work, then what hope was there for him, Callen thought.

"That's because you're a dirty old man and you like to think about their nubile bodies getting all hot and sweaty and…" Sam knew what his partner was thinking and he didn't want to go down that dark road either.

"Enough, damn it!" Callen smacked his glass down on the counter.

"Been a while, has it?" Sam teased. "Almost forgotten how to do it? Wondering if it still works?"

"I'm warning you – don't go there." _How the hell does he know I'm going through a fallow period?_

"Keep your hair on. What's left of it."

"Like you're one to talk."

"I spend a lot of time on my appearance. This is a conscious image, a lifestyle choice, if you like."

"I don't like. And it's a skin head, that's what it is." Callen signalled for another beer. "So – she's pregnant." They couldn't avoid the subject for ever, after all.

"Uh huh." Sam shook his head. "Man, I so didn't see that one coming."

"Me neither. You think it's Deeks'?"

"I hope so." Thinking about the alternative wasn't something he wanted to dwell on.

"Me too."

They sat in gloomy silence for a moment, studying their drinks. "That's not very fair on the baby, you know , G. You're basically condemning it to a lifetime of coping with shaggy hair."

Callen shook his head. "What is it with you and hair today?" he asked and then decided he really didn't want to know. What he really wanted to do was to sit here, drink beer and watch the game on TV. Anything to stop thinking about how much he wanted someone in his life.

* * *

><p>"You're really pregnant?" His hand was lying tenderly on her belly as they lay in the quiet aftermath.<p>

"Really and truly. I blame those boots."

"I'm really going to be a daddy?" Marty had refused to think about the baby for two weeks, terrified that it wasn't his and that Kensi was going to end things.

"Or maybe it was the whip?" she mused and then found it impossible to joke any more. "Can you believe it? A baby. We're going to have a baby, Marty!" Kensi shivered with the sheer delight and amazement of it all, and the relief that they were finally able to share the wonder together.

"Thank you." Marty moved so that his body was covering hers and the warm solid warmth felt like nirvana. "Thank you for the baby and for being you. And for taking me back when I was such a fucking stupid bastard."

"I never let you go," Kensi said. "And I never will." She hugged him for emphasis and felt a familiar sensation nudging against her thigh. "Again? Already." Her voice trembled with expectation.

Marty nodded happily. It had been a long two weeks and there was so much to make up for. "Again. I'm all ready. And then again and again and again. Because I can never get enough of you."

"Oh good." Kensi eased her legs up to curve around his back and sighed with contentment. "Because I'm not letting you go." She smiled as tightened her grip and heard the moan of pleasure that induced and then the rhythm started to take over, the rhythm that was as old and primal as time and her mind slipped away.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny is so excited he is lying on his back and kicking his legs with delight. <em>

_So - all is well- for the moment. But I do have to warn you that ecil plot bunny is lurking underneath the sofa and his fangs look awfully big and sharp._


	24. Chapter 24

_Be warned: evil plot bunny is on the loose... and he's a vicious wee beast._

* * *

><p><strong>The Present<strong>

He looks at the clock and sees it is three am and realises that the light is on in the bathroom. There is the sound of the toilet flushing and of then running water and finally Kensi emerges, walking slowly across the bedroom, hair all mussed and one hand in the small of her back.

"I just want this to be over," she says, as she eases herself down onto the bed and Marty pulls back the covers. "I don't think I can take much more of this. She's lying on her side, facing him, and her eyes are darkly shadowed. In the dim light, her face looks different -rounder, almost puffy. It's a shock to realise that right now he can't remember how she used to look.

"You're nearly there. Not much longer now." And he can hear how hollow the words sound. Still, he'll miss the now-familiar feel of the baby in her belly, that solid presence that sometimes kicks him during the night. Marty can only imagine how it must feel to have that kicking taking place inside you, how it must feel to know you have a baby in your belly that is growing day by day into a little person, and despite the toll the pregnancy is taking on Kensi, he can't help but be slightly jealous that she gets to experience this. "How about I give you a back rub?"

"That sounds like heaven." Her back is killing her, a deep, nagging pain, that complements the dull throb in her head and the uncomfortable sensation under her ribs. She thinks that maybe the baby is like its father and hates Jello, which is unfortunate because it's about the only thing she can stomach right now.

Marty moves so that he can start to massage her back, his strong hands kneading gently away at her taut muscles, gradually easing away a little of the strain. "It's hard work, isn't it – growing this baby?"

"It'll be worth it." There's complete certainty in her voice.

"I know." He finishes off the massage and kisses her gently on the forehead. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

Kensi manages a sleepy nod and wonders if she'll ever get her old energy back, if she'll ever see her feet again and if she'd really caught a glimpse of stretch marks on her butt in the bathroom mirror.

Of course, no sooner has she dropped off into an uneasy sleep than his cell phone starts to ring. Grabbing it, Marty reads the text and swears underneath his breath.

"What's up?" Kensi doesn't even have the energy to sit up, so she just lies there and looks at him.

"I'm being called in. A car blew up and we've got two Marines dead, one critically injured and a fourth in custody." Grabbing his clothes, Marty makes for the bathroom. "Go back to sleep, baby girl. I'll call later on."

She is too tired to protest, too exhausted to ask for any more details, so Kensi does the only thing she can, which is to close her eyes and pray that the baby doesn't start to dance the light fandango on her bladder again. Just before sleep creeps up, she thinks that maybe she'll go see her doctor in the morning, because she can't do this any longer.

* * *

><p>"What the hell were they thinking?" It was ten o'clock and after six solid hours, the picture was starting to come together. "Setting up in business as bomb makers?"<p>

"Look like it." Sam looked at the sorry individual sitting in the interrogation room. His world had literally exploded around him. Still, at least he was still alive – even if he looked as if he wasn't particularly rejoicing in the fact. "They found a demand and reckoned they could supply the goods. And they over-estimated their skills." The four men had been transporting one of their home-made devices to a customer, only stopping off to let John Comer buy some cigarettes, when the improvised device had detonated. His bad habit had saved his life, but he wasn't going to escape a whole raft of charges, including stealing explosives from the Corps. That was probably the least of his worries though. The death toll had now risen to three.

Deeks poured himself another cup of coffee and wondered why Callen was taking so long getting the donuts. His stomach felt like it was doubling over on itself and he knew his blood sugar level was probably at zero. He needed something to eat before the interrogation began, because a rumbling stomach wasn't exactly conducive to obtaining a confession. As if on cue, the door opened and the Callen walked in.

"Did you make them from scratch?" Sam asked sarcastically and then noticed his partner was empty-handed. "Oh, come on, Callen. We're dying of hunger here."

Callen ignored him, dimissing the light-hearted remarks with a shake of his head, and made straight for Deeks. "You want to come with me, buddy?"

There was something in his voice, and an inexpressible look on Callen's face. And Deeks knew instantly what this was about. He knew exactly what was coming and he knew there was nothing he could do to stop it, absolutely nothing.

"It's Kensi, isn't it?" All the time this voice inside him was repeating 'no', over and over and over again. It was as close to praying as Deeks had got in a long time.

Callen nodded and Sam's solid presence was suddenly at Deeks' side. "The hospital called. They want you to come in immediately."

"Okay." Patting down his pockets, Deeks looked up. "I can't find my keys. Where did I put my keys?" His voice was too controlled, too calm but his eyes were wild and round with panic.

"No worries. We'll take you." There was no way they were going to let him drive, not in that state, and besides, Sam and Callen wanted to be there too. Hell, they needed to be there too – not just for Kensi, but for Deeks, just in case anything happened – because then Deeks would need them. They walked on either side of him, in a slow, measured pace, matching his steps exactly and Deeks felt like they were walking in a funeral possession.

"Is she still alive?" he asked as they reached the car. It was the first time he'd said a word since they left the boathouse.

Sam reached out and squeezed his shoulder and that simple gesture nearly did for Deeks, nearly unmanned him by its empathy and solidarity.

"She's still alive, Deeks, but they need to get her into theatre as soon as possible." Callen was planning to drive faster than he had ever driven in his life.

"And the baby?" Deeks knew he sounded as if he was begging but he didn't care, because he was begging – he was begging for the lives of his wife and his child.

* * *

><p><em>Oh dear. I did say evil plot bunny had a nasty glint in his eye. His brother slushy is digging a deep hole in the garden and trying to hide because he really deson't want to know what is about to happen next.<em>


	25. Chapter 25

Callen started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, praying that there would be no major traffic snarl ups. "They said they have to deliver the baby as soon as possible, Deeks. There's no other choice."

"She's close to full-term, isn't she?" Sam asked. He'd given up the front seat to Deeks automatically. What did it matter where he sat in the car? Why had he ever thought it mattered?

"Two weeks to go." He closed his eyes and swore inventively. "I knew something was wrong. Why didn't I take her to go checked out last night?"

"Don't beat yourself up." They all knew that was exactly what Deeks was going to do.

"It'll be alright. They'll both be alright." Maybe if he said it enough times he might start to believe it, Callen thought. This couldn't be happening to Kensi. It definitely shouldn't be happening to Kensi. He looked down and saw that Deeks' hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his eyes were closed and his lips were moving soundlessly and he put his foot down on the accelerator and wove skilfully through the traffic. Every second counted after all.

When they got to the hospital, he drove straight up to the entrance and told them to ahead. Callen watched the two men stride towards the doors, Sam hovering protectively just behind Deeks and then rested his head briefly against the steering wheel. _Please, let them be alright._ He wasn't sure who might be listening, but what could it hurt?

* * *

><p><strong>Prague – Two Years Ago<strong>

"My, don't you all look smart?" Hetty was sitting up in bed now, and looking much more like her old self. "I thought the interview with the Ambassador was yesterday?" That was the trouble with a long stay in hospital – you began to lose track of time and the days started to merge into each other. She was beginning to go a little stir crazy in here.

"It was," Callen informed her drily.

"Then why on earth…?" Hetty blinked and then adjusted her glasses. "Mr Deeks – am I seeing things or have you shaved? And where is Ms Blye?"

Marty was grinning fit to burst. "No, you're not seeing things. And yes, I have shaved." He rubbed his face ruefully. "It was in a good cause, you see. Kind of a special occasion. And Kensi? She's right here." He moved to one side, revealing Kensi who was holding an enormous bunch of marguerites.

"Hi Hetty. How about you catch these?" She lobbed the flowers into Hetty's arms with a sure aim.

"Oh my." Hetty looked at the pale cream suit and the small hat with an eye-veil that sat at a becoming angle. But most of all she looked at the joy radiating from her agents. "Oh my God. You got married, didn't you?" For once, she was genuinely surprised.

Kensi nodded and tucked her hand into Marty's. "We've come straight from City Hall. We wanted you to be the first person we told. Won't you wish us well?" Kensi was uncharacteristically shy for about the first time in her life.

"I wish you all the luck in the world. And all the love in the world." Hetty's eyes grew misty. "Aren't you going to kiss your bride, Mr Deeks?" She watched with considerable satisfaction as they turned to face one another, and she could swear that she could see the stars in their eyes.

"I still can't get used to kissing a clean-shaven man." Kensi ran her fingers down his cheek and Hetty felt quite sentimental as she saw how Marty leaned into the touch. "And you look younger. Quite absurdly young, in fact. I almost feel like I'm cradle snatching." She picked a piece of confetti out of his hair and slipped it into her pocket for safekeeping.

"Pity you couldn't have made him get a hair-cut at the same time," Sam observed. "A proper haircut," he added, seeing Marty was getting ready to retort.

"You could have said something, Mr Callen." Hetty had been sniffing the daisies and her nose was tipped with pollen. "Dropped me a hint."

"It was more than my life was worth." _I know what you're like, Hetty. You would have engineered a jail break._

"I would have liked to be there." _I probably would have cried. I do find one gets more sentimental with age._

"Now you know what it's like – having people keep secrets from you." Callen softened the words with a smile. He'd save the hard questions for when they were all back home again, but he was definitely going to ask them.

"You were with us in spirit, Hetty." Kensi perched on the edge of the bed and pointed to the flowers. "And those mean it's your turn next."

"I'll put money on Hetty getting married before Callen. Seems a safe bet to me." Sam looked at his partner and shrugged. "You want to debate the issue, G?"

"I'm glad I'm still regarded as eligible. But I notice you exclude yourself from the bet, Mr Hannah."

"That's because I'm a prime catch. Not that you're not a prime dame, of course," he added hastily.

"Nicely fielded, Mr Hannah."

Callen tried to look insulted, but failed miserably. "You want the really good news now?"

Hetty perked up. "They're letting me go home?" she asked hopefully.

"Not quite as good as that. But we have persuaded the hospital staff to let us take you out for lunch."

They sat in the restaurant and drank toasts to Kensi and Deeks, who seemed cocooned in a web of happiness. And Hetty watched her team and knew how blessed she was.

* * *

><p><strong>The Present<strong>

"Hey there, baby girl." Marty bent over the gurney and kissed Kensi tenderly.

"I'm so sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry about, you just need to let the doctors take care of you." They'd made it perfectly clear that there was no choice, that Kensi had pre-eclampsia and that unless they delivered the baby immediately, the lives of both mother and child were at risk. He took a quick look at the readings on the blood–pressure monitor and shuddered. _Shit, that's far too high. No wonder she's been having those headaches._ The doctor had been brutally honest: none of the drugs had helped, so there was nothing for it but to deliver the baby by caesarean section.

"Don't leave me, Marty." Kensi grabbed hold of his hand and held on to it desperately.

"Of course I won't leave you. I'll never leave you. I'm going to be right there." Marty brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. "I love you so much. You and the baby."

The rhythmic beeping of the monitor increased in pace and volume and a doctor hurried over, pushing him out of the way. "We need to get her to theatre right away. Her blood pressure's getting too high." The last thing anyone wanted was for the patient to go into convulsions now. That could be fatal for both her and the baby. Suddenly the room was full of people all rushing around, in co-ordinated chaos. Marty followed the gurney towards the doors, but was stopped short.

"We're going to have to give your wife a general anaesthetic, Mr Deeks. We can't afford any more time. We've waited long enough and now we've got to deliver that baby as fast as we can." The doctor was emphatic.

"I don't care what kind of anaesthetic you give her." _Why would I? You're the expert here._ _Just do whatever you have to._

"You can't come into the theatre. You're going to have to wait in the relatives' room."

"You don't understand - I need to be with her." Marty started to lunge forward, trying to go after the gurney but was stopped dead in his tracks by the original immovable object.

"Let them do their job, Marty. Let them look after Kensi." Sam's arms tightened around the younger man, feeling the resistance in his body. "Just let them do their job."

"I should be there. I should be there." Marty pulled free from the bearhug and gazed down the empty corridor, staring blankly and running his hands through his hair.

Sam gave him a moment and then went over. "How about we go to the relatives' room? That's where they'll come to tell us… that's where they'll expect us to be."

"Sure. Whatever." He let himself be led away, almost stumbling, no longer sure of anything anymore.

"You want a coffee?" Sam guided the younger man to a chair.

"No. I'm fine." Marty placed his chin on his clasped hands and stared at the door, as if by staring he could magically make things better. "I've still got so much I need to say to her, Sam."

"You'll say those things. You will."

"I need her. I just need her." He'd never wanted anybody so much. It didn't matter that they'd been together for over two years, she was still the one he wanted, the only woman he would ever want. There was no room in his heart for anyone but Kensi. Except the baby. Their baby. And now there was a chance he could lose both of them.

"I know." Sam had never felt so helpless in his life. He just couldn't find the words, so he settled for squeezing his friend's shoulder. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. When the door opened and Nell came in he felt like throwing back his head and singing.

"Oh Marty." Nell was at his side in an instant, throwing her arms around him and she made it look so easy to comfort someone. Sam supposed that summed up the difference between men and women – women weren't afraid to venture into the realm of emotions, while men were basically terrified and would avoid it at all costs. Look at him – he'd offered to buy Deeks a coffee. What the hell was he thinking?

"I didn't get to kiss her properly, Nell. What if I never get to kiss her again?"

Sam realised that Nell didn't know what to say either, but the difference was that she was able to embrace Deeks, to let him put his head down on her shoulder and stroke his back, for all the world like a mother soothing a child. Maybe it was just this instinct that women had? Or maybe men just had it drilled into them that they should hide their hearts.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny informs me that he has packed his bags and is leaving home. His evil brother just said "good" and let off a party popper...<em>


	26. Chapter 26

_I think it is worthwhile noting that I do not make evil things happen. I am a lovely person, full of sweetness and lightly and radiating a wholesome goodness. Unfortunately, I have an evil plot bunny who nibbles my toes unmercifully and makes the most awful things happen. But none of them are my fault._

_that's my story and I'm sticking to it._

_And here's another of my stories... and before you say anything - just bear in mind the above disclaimer. I am not responsible for anything. So proceed at your own risk_

* * *

><p>Now all they could do was to sit and wait, and try to let Deeks know they were here for him – and that they would be here for him, whatever the outcome was. Hetty came in silently and looked first at Nell and Deeks, and then at Sam, who shook his head with ineffable sadness.<p>

"She's in theatre. We're just waiting."

"I hate waiting. I've never been a patient person. It's much easier to be actually doing something, don't you find?"

This was a revelation to Sam. "You never look impatient."

"I've schooled my face to impassivity over the years. That doesn't mean that inside my stomach isn't churning. And right at the moment it's in a double granny-knot." That was the peril of allowing yourself to get too close, to start thinking of your agents as people, rather than as pawns in a game. Hetty had never been able to forget the human element in any operation, in fact it was her highest priority. "I hate waiting," she repeated. This was as bad as any high-risk operation.

"Yeah. Me too."

They sat, side by side, and they waited.

By the time Callen came back, Deeks was standing staring sightlessly out of the window, shoulders slumped and with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans while the others sat in a row, their heads turning in unison at his entrance. "Deeks?"

He turned around instantly, his face strained and white, tension evident in every inch of his body.

"I think they're finishing up. You might want to… " Callen never got to finish the sentence as Deeks rushed past him, moving faster than he'd ever moved in his entire life.

"Did they say anything?" Nell was at Callen's side, standing close and looking up at him beseechingly.

"Nothing. Not a single word." The waiting was the worst part. The sheer frustration of not knowing and not being able to do anything. Callen hated the waiting more than anything else.

* * *

><p>Kensi struggled up through a mass of thick, white clouds; their softness impeding her progress. Her mind seemed to be filled with things too, and her throat felt dry and sore.<p>

"Hey, sweetheart."

His voice seemed to guide her home, making it easy to push away the last remaining barrier that stood in the way and she was finally able to open her eyes.

"Welcome back." She could feel the mattress dip and then Marty's face swam into view. It was funny, but he looked terrible, like he'd been crying or something. No, scrub that, he looked as if he'd been to hell and was still trying to run back to safety. "You look awful," she said groggily, trying to work out what was going on.

"You look absolutely beautiful. You gave me such a fright," Marty, all the time stroking her hand gently, holding on to it like it was a crucifix. "But everything's alright. You're going to be just fine." The was a sense of both wonder and disbelief in his voice.

Kensi shook her head feebly, trying to clear it, trying to think straight. She appeared to be lying in a hospital bed, which was strange. And there was a line in her arm and… and there was no huge belly anymore. The familiar presence of the baby was gone. It all came flooding back. "My baby?" she cried as her memory kicked into over drive, and tried to sit up, only a searing pain stopped her and she fell back helplessly against the pillows. "Marty – the baby?"

"Careful – you've just had an operation and you're going to be sore for a while. Don't worry - the baby's fine. Just fine. You want to see?" He pressed a button and the head of the bed started to rise. "How about you hold onto that and I'll go get the baby?"

Kensi pressed the button again, craning her neck desperately to watch as Marty went over to a bassinet in the corner of the room. "Really? The baby's alright?" That was all that mattered. It didn't even cross her mind to ask the sex of the child, because all that mattered was that the baby was alright.

"How about you come to meet your Mama?" There was an unfamiliar tone to Marty's voice, and although Kensi thought she knew every nuance and every single one of his expressions, she had never seen him as a father and the transformation nearly took her breath away. The bundle he lifted out of the crib seemed impossibly small, and the blanket made it difficult to see anything more that the curve of a rounded cheek. She held out her arms yearningly as Marty walked carefully across the room.

"Kensi – meet our son."

"A boy?" Kensi looked down at the tiny face, and realised the features were already familiar, that she'd seen them a hundred times in her dreams. She already knew him, but then she'd known him for nine months. She rejoiced in the feeling of holding him at last in her arms, of feeling the roundness of the small rump in the palm of her hand while his little body rested against her arm, his head turned slightly towards her. Nothing had ever felt quite so natural or quite so wonderful.

"A boy." There was no disguising the pride in Marty's voice. "Isn't he great?" He reached out a finger and stroked the wispy fair hair with infinite tenderness.

"He's perfect." Kensi had already unwrapped the blanket and was studying her son in minute detail, imprinting every perfect inch in her mind. She would have known him anywhere. Even the baby-scent was already familiar. "Hey there, Densi – I'm so glad to meet you."

"I thought you hated that name?" Marty couldn't stop looking at the way she was holding their son, the way her face had transformed into a radiant tenderness, even as a fierce love burned forth. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Everything was going to be even better, he was quite certain. Everything was golden. But nothing, absolutely nothing would ever top this moment, these first few moments of being together as a family.

"It suits him." Kensi looked up and smiled. "You were right, okay? He'll be David Martin Deeks officially, just like we agreed - but he couldn't be anything other than Densi to us, could he?" She moved over and patted the bed invitingly.

"You could call him Pluto or Kal-El or even G Callen and I wouldn't argue." Marty stretched out his legs on the bed, put his arm around her and sighed with a mixture of contentment, exhilaration and exhaustion. "But he's definitely Densi, isn't he?"

"He always was." Kensi leant into him. "So, we're a family, aren't we?"

"Definitely." He kissed her and let his lips linger on her skin. "I thought I was going to lose you, Kensi. I thought I was going to lose both of you." There was a slight tremor in his voice and Kensi returned the kiss.

"I'll never leave you. I promise." She looked down at her son and made the same vow.

"I didn't think it was possible to be this happy." All the terrors of the past few hours seemed like nothing when Marty's entire being was suffused with this incredible joy. "Thank you so much. For everything."

Callen's head poked cautiously around the door. "We heard voices. Can we come in?" They'd sat outside for what seemed like an eternity, waiting and wondering. Deeks had stalked behind the gurney with an unreadable expression on his face when they brought Kensi and the baby back from theatre and it had seemed best not to interfere. But the waiting had gone on for too long.

"Sure. Come on in and meet the newest member of the team." Deeks looked completely different now, Callen realised – they both did. The change was subtle, but it was definitely there. Protectiveness, that was possibly the best word he could find to describe it. A fierce, proud protectiveness. In some starnge way, the baby seemed to have completed them.

Callen edged forward, followed by Sam, Nell and finally Hetty.

"I'd like you all to meet Densi Deeks – our son." The baby opened his eyes on cue and blinked curiously.

Nell let forth a little squeal of delight. "Oh isn't he just the cutest thing you ever saw in your life? Callen, how about we make one just as cute?" She gave him an imploring look and squeezed his hand.

"Maybe not quite right now? And I'd rather my baby didn't look like a miniature Deeks, thank you very much. But apart from that – why not?" throwing caution to the winds, Callen pulled Nell into an embrace as Sam tried very hard to cope with the triple of shock of the baby's name, his remarkable resemblance to his father and the fact that Callen and Nell had managed to have a relationship without anyone being any the wiser.

* * *

><p><em>Slushy plot bunny is so happy he's gone off to have a bubble bath.<em>

_Everybody happy now? I told you I was a lovely person, didn't I?_


	27. Chapter 27

_thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing._

* * *

><p>Hetty moved closer to the bed, a smile softening her face. "May I?" There was a yearning quality to her voice.<p>

"Of course." Kensi transferred the baby across carefully and watched as Hetty took him into her arms with accustomed ease, adjusting the bundle carefully and scrutinising the little face intently.

"Oh my. Aren't you just like your Daddy?" There was no mistaking the fact the rosebud mouth was definitely pouting.

"Only cuter." Nell was at her side in an instant, transfixed by the baby in all his miniature perfection. "Just look at those little feet – they are so sweet. I want one, Callen – I definitely want one." There was definitely mischief in her eyes, but it was mixed in along with a good deal of seriousness.

"I don't think Deeks is that cute," Sam commented wryly. "Congratulations, by the way. And I'd just like to say that I am forbidding you ever to get pregnant again, Kensi. I don't think any of us could ever go through anything like that ever again."

"I had to go through nine whole months, Sam," Kensi reminded him. "But he was worth it. He was worth every single minute of it." Despite everything, she would go through it all again in an instant. Looking across at Hetty, Kensi realised that she was already longing to have her baby back in her arms again.

"Just you wait until he keeps you up half the night. And that's on a good night." The funny thing was that Sam would give anything to have those times back again. Babies grew up so fast, they were tiny infants one moment and the next time you looked they were getting on that school bus and disappearing out of your life.

"Don't be so cynical, Mr Hannah. Let them discover the joys of parenthood all by themselves." Clocking the look on his face, Hetty raised an eyebrow. "Is this your way of telling me I'm being greedy?" She was reluctant to hand the baby over, but consoled herself with the prospect of many more such moments. When times were darkest, there was something about holding a brand-new life in your arms that gave you hope for the future, that convinced you there was still some good in the world.

"Oh, go on then. If I must." With a show of reluctance that fooled nobody, Sam held out his arms. The baby looked tiny in his massive hands; tiny, but very safe. "Welcome to the world, little man aand may you always be blessed with peace and happiness. I'm your Uncle Sam and I'm the one to come to when you want some sound advice."

Kensi's heart melted as she watched Sam talk nonsense to the baby – her baby. It hadn't quite sunk in yet that she had a son or even that she was a mother. But then she had the rest of her life to get used to that. Nothing was ever going to be the same again – it was going to be better.

"Thanks very much." Marty tried to look offended and failed completely. "He has got a father, you know."

"Hey, I know he's got you, poor little guy. I also know you. That's why this kid is going to need a good role model. Like me."

"I don't want a bald son, thank you very much."

"Right now, he's the next best thing to bald." Sam ran one finger over the fine strands of blond hair.

"It'll grow – eventually."

"You're not really going to call him 'Densi', are you?"

"It suits him. Go on – admit it."

Sam had to agree. The child was unmistakeably Densi. He couldn't possibly be anything else.

"And it's a really cool name. It works on so many levels – he could be a rock star, an astronaut or even a surfer with a name like that." Marty was on a roll.

Kensi felt it was time to intervene. "Or he could just be a normal little boy. But officially he's going to be called David. David Martin, after his Daddy. And just in case he wants to do something normal when he grows up."

"With you two for parents, there's not much chance of that happening, is there?" Callen could no longer resist the lure of the baby and joined the group who were all but worshipping him

Sam regarded his partner gravely. "Exactly when were you and Nell planning on telling us about your little liaison? I'm your partner, G – you shouldn't hold out on me."

"I think Callen's been busy holding Nell," Marty remarked slyly and was gratified to see the way they both went bright red. "Aren't you going to hold him, Callen?"

"No. No thank you. I might drop him or something." Callen backed rapidly off.

"Wimp. You're going to need to get some practice in before you and Nell come over to babysit." Marty retrieved his son from Sam and cradled him in his arms. "I can't quite believe it, you know." He bent his head and kissed the baby's forehead and Kensi felt as if her heart was going to burst with a mixture of pride and love for them both.

"In about sixteen years' time, Densi's going to look at you and say exactly the same thing, you know. And that's when he's going to come running to his Uncle Sam for some help." Sam pulled out his cellphone. "How about we get a photograph of the Deeks' family?"

"So, can we expect an announcement from you and Ms Jones any time soon, Mr Callen?" Hetty watched as Marty settled himself on the bed next to Kensi and gave her the baby to hold. They looked so incredibly happy. More than that, they looked complete.

"It's early days," Nell protested, just a little too quickly. Luckily, the camera flash disturbed the baby out of his sleep and he started wailing. The cries rapidly increased in volume.

"Starting to have second thoughts, Nell?" Callen asked, trying not to smile at the sight of Kensi in a blind panic as her attempts at soothing the baby proved completely ineffectual.

"Nope. How about you?" She looked him straight in the eye.

"I think I'm going to need a lot of practice before I'm ready for that." Callen watched in interest as Kensi gave up the struggle. Marty was now pacing the room, patting his son gently on the back, with a helpless expression on his face. It was clearly time to escape. "How about we go somewhere quieter to talk about it?" he suggested.

"Good idea." Sam clapped him jovially on the back. "Let's leave the happy couple to experience all the many joys of parenthood." Linking one arm with Nell and the other with Callen, he beat a hasty retreat into the blessed silence of the corridor.

Callen was not at all sure that his eardrums were still intact. "How can something so small make so much noise?"

"He's only getting started. Believe me, that pair have got no idea what they're in for. No idea at all."

Hetty took a look at the photo Sam had sent to her own phone. "Oh, I think they know exactly what the future holds. And right now, their future is called 'Densi'."

Everything was about to change. But Kensi and Marty had everything they'd ever wanted.

* * *

><p><strong>Their First Night Home<strong>

"Well?" Kensi looked at Marty. "What do you think?"

He studied the baby curiously. "I think so."

"Thinking isn't good enough – we have to be sure."

Marty bent forward for a closer look. "I'm almost positive." He watched intently. "Yes – look. I definitely saw his chest rise there." He straightened up with a sigh. "He's definitely breathing."

"I think I prefer it when he's crying," Kensi said. "At least I know he's still alive." She hovered in the doorway. "I don't think I can leave him. Not in there, all by himself. What if something happens?"

"We're going to be right next door. We'll hear him. And I promise I'll get break the record for sprinting the second he opens his mouth. But right now I need to sleep. Please, Kensi?"

"I'm kind of tired too," she admitted, and let herself be led through to the bedroom. "This is scary, isn't it?"

"Absolutely terrifying." Marty was peeling off his clothes with great speed. "How can something so small make me feel so scared?"

"Because you love him and you'd do anything for him?" Kensi sank onto the bed with a sigh.

"Guess so. Kind of like I'd do anything for you. Anything at all." It felt so good to hold her in his arms again, so incredibly right.

"Anything?" Kensi's hand traced an all-too familiar path.

"Maybe not quite right now," he admitted. "For once I really am too tired."

"Thank God for that! How about you just hold me then?"

"With pleasure." Her head was resting on his shoulder and everything was just as it should be. "You're still the one I want – still the one I'll always want, " Marty whispered and the still, dark night seemed to enfold them.

Kensi snuggled in a little closer, already half-asleep. This was heaven, lying in the arms of the man she loved and with their son sleeping peacefully next door.

And then the cry of a hungry baby shattered the peace.

**THE END**

_To be continued in "Hang Onto Yourself."_


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